All The Little Things
by NarikoD
Summary: When Ianto wakes up in a mental institution, he refuses to believe what everyone is telling him: that Torchwood is a delusion and he's schizophrenic. But the longer he stays there, the more he starts to wonder if Torchwood was ever real to begin with.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **All The Little Things

**Summary**: When Ianto wakes up in a mental institution, he's pretty sure an alien's involved. He's so sure, in fact, that he refuses to believe it when everyone around him tells him that Torchwood is a delusion he experiences due to his schizophrenia. But when evidence begins to mount against him, his unwavering confidence starts to crumble, and he begins to wonder if Torchwood was ever real to begin with.  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Jack/Ianto  
><strong>Setting:<strong> Season 2, Post-Something Borrowed  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13 overall  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>To be safe, all episodes up to Something Borrowed.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Torchwood and all its properties do not belong to me.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Finishing this story was like pulling teeth, but I'm glad I have it finished. Over all, this story is over 80,000 words with ten chapters and an epilogue. I'll post a chapter a day if real life doesn't prevent me from doing so, and I do hope you enjoy reading!

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><p>CHAPTER ONE<p>

Ianto jolted into a sitting position, his heavy breathing loud as he felt beads of sweat on his skin. He blinked into the darkness to adjust his eyes, and as soon as they did he looked around, confused. There was a lamp next to his bed and he turned it on, the light illuminating the room. A room that wasn't his.

Ianto shook his head, trying to figure out how he ended up there. The last thing he remembered was running through a park, chasing an alien down along with the others. It didn't look like a hospital room, and a quick check of his person revealed no injuries. It also revealed striped pajamas, and he pulled at the cotton covering his body, wondering where he was and why he was wearing something he didn't recall owning.

As he climbed out of bed, he looked around the room again. It was a bit sparse. There was a desk, an end table, and a bed. There were some other knick-knacks, like books and writing materials, but that was it. There was a window, but it was small and barred. He looked outside, and through the night's darkness he managed to see trees and garden beds.

Where the hell was he?

He approached the door, noting that it was metallic rather than wood. There was a rectangular outline at eye-level, no bigger than a foot wide and about half a foot in length. He grasped the doorknob and twisted, but the door didn't open. He tried again, and again, but the door wouldn't budge.

Worried and uncertain, he knocked his fists on the door, shouting, "Hey!" He used a socked foot to kick it in order to make more noises, and he didn't stop until he heard a noise on the other side of the door. He jumped when the rectangular outline moved, and Ianto realized that it was a sort of peephole, big enough for Ianto to see the eyes of the person standing on the other side of the door. The eyes currently peering at him were dark and curious. "Problem, Ianto?"

Ianto didn't recognize the male voice. He frowned. "Where the hell am I?"

He could see a brow arch. It was bushy. "Where do you think you are?"

"I don't know, why the bloody hell do you think I'm asking?" Ianto banged on the door again. "Let me out, now."

The man tutted. "You know we can't do that, Ianto. Now go to sleep."

Before Ianto could say another word, the man closed the opening. Ianto attempted to open it, but it wouldn't move, and Ianto concluded that it could only open from the other side. Jiggling the doorknob again, he realized that the door most likely could only be unlocked from the other side as well.

Ianto hit the door, deciding to make as much noise as possible, but after several minutes of pounding and kicking, all he got for his efforts were red hands and aching toes. Huffing in frustration, he stomped back to the window. He managed to slide it open and encountered the bars. He curled his fingers around the steel poles and yanked, but they were firm and unmovable. He studied the gardens through the bars, seeing the tall trees, the bushes, and what looked like several beds of different kinds of flowers. There were no clues that pointed to his location.

He moved away from the window and stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. He swallowed and closed his eyes, figuring out his next step. Naturally, he needed to figure out where he was, but since no one was answering his questions or responding to the noise he was making, he tried to remember what had happened that led to his current and unknown location.

It was possible that during his chase, the alien, a Chyla, had somehow managed to capture him and planted him there for reasons unknown. His memory of the chase was sketchy, so perhaps the alien knocked him out or used some kind of alien liquid or gas to disorient him long enough to kidnap him. The alien had been capable of using a purple mist to confuse its enemies, after all. If that was the case, then Jack and others probably already realized his absence. They might be trying to figure out how to locate him right at that moment.

Well, considering the big fight he and Jack had had before the rift alert announced the Chyla's presence, Ianto _hoped_ that Jack was trying to locate him. Ianto told himself that no matter how ugly the fight, Jack wouldn't leave a teammate behind, even if that teammate was a lover who had royally pissed him off.

Ianto lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He detested the idea of being a damsel in distress, sitting on his ass and waiting for Torchwood to come find him, but there was nothing he could do—at least for the rest of the night. But come morning, he would find out more information about where he was, and maybe find a way out.

* * *

><p>Ianto was still awake when he heard his door being unlocked. He sat up, a bit tired after staying awake all night. He had been unwilling to sleep in such a strange place. When the door opened, Ianto got off the bed, bracing himself.<p>

A head popped around the door, a man with a bald head and wide smile. "Good morning, Ianto."

Welsh accent. Okay, so maybe Ianto was still in Wales somewhere. That was good. Warily, he asked, "Where am I?"

The man walked further into the room. He was wearing what looked like scrubs. "Jake said you asked that last night."

Ianto moved back when the man stepped close. "Stay away from me."

The man halted and lifted his hands, looking surprised, but then he grimaced. "Damn, you relapsed, didn't you? The doctors aren't going to like this." He pointed at himself. "I'm Glyn, remember?"

Ianto slowly shook his head. "Where the hell am I?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"You're in Whittier."

"Whittier?"

Glyn sighed. "Whittier Psychiatric Hospital."

Ianto gaped. "I'm in a mental institution?" Memories surfaced of a younger Ianto Jones, walking down the halls of Providence Park to see his mother. He shook those memories away and concentrated on the present. "No, this is a mistake. I don't belong here." Why would the alien put him in a mental institution?

Glyn dug into his pocket and drew out a phone. He tapped on it. "I know you don't want to believe it, but this isn't a mistake." After typing on his phone, he put it away and gave Ianto a placating smile. "You've been here for over a year."

Another shock. Ianto pressed a hand against his stomach. "That's impossible. I've never seen this place in my life!"

Another person walked into the room, a gray-haired man who wore a white coat over his shirt and trousers. "Problem?" The man asked.

Glyn nodded. "Signs of a relapse."

The older man made a face that expressed extreme displeasure. "It was only a matter time," he muttered. He sighed lowly and smiled at Ianto, although the stretch of lips was a bit strained. "Aliens again, Ianto?"

Ianto looked rapidly from one to another. "Who are you?" he finally demanded.

"I'm Dr. Yates, one of your psychiatrists."

"I don't have a psychiatrist." God knew he had been told that he needed one, particularly by Jack whenever a nightmare or two of traumatic events had clutched him in its arms, but he had always considered it a waste of time. He glared at Yates. "Would you mind telling me why in the hell I'm in here?" He jutted his chin at Glyn. "He says I've been here for over a year, but I've never been here in my life."

A glance was shared between Glyn and Yates, a silent message sent and received, and one that Ianto couldn't decipher. Yates turned that smile to Ianto once more. "What's the last thing you remember doing, Ianto? Chasing Weevils?"

Ianto's eyes widened. "I have no idea what Weevils are," he lied, trying to hide his surprise and confusion over the doctor knowing about Weevils. No one knew what Weevils were. True, the occasional Weevil did leave the sewers and was spotted by a person or two, but no one knew what they were exactly, and for those who did manage to discover more about the Weevils, they were quickly retconned. So how did Yates know? Whatever the reason, Ianto would have to make sure he was retconned once he got out of the institution.

Yates looked fairly amused by his denial, a twinkle in his green eyes. "You've been talking about Weevils for years. You even drew a few." Yates glanced at Glyn again.

Glyn walked to the desk and picked up a sketchbook. He approached Ianto and held it out to him. Ianto accepted it warily before flipping it open. Right on the first page was a drawing of a Weevil. A very detailed Weevil. "I couldn't have drawn this," he whispered, flipping through more pages. He felt himself go pale as the pages began to reveal not just Weevils, but other aliens as well, all of whom Torchwood Three had encountered at one point or another. He swallowed and snapped the sketchbook closed. He waved it in the air. "I don't know where you got this from, but it isn't mine."

"It has your name on the back."

Ianto turned it over. There, in bold black colors, was the name Ianto Jones. He tossed it on the bed. "Then someone else drew them and put my name on it."

Yates picked up a leather-bound book and held it out to Ianto. "Maybe this will help. It's your journal. You've had it for the last few months."

Ianto grabbed the journal and opened it, certain that if it was his journal it would contain the entries he'd written as a Torchwood operative. He ran his gaze through the first couple of pages, words jumping out at him. As he read, his heart began to pound in his chest, his breathing becoming erratic. Some sentences did describe Torchwood-related events, but other lines were filled with observations of the mental institution, of other patients, of the medications.

"I don't understand." He swallowed and looked up. "This is impossible."

Yates held out his hands in a soothing gesture. "It's okay, Ianto. You're safe here, I promise you." He hesitated before asking, "You want to know why you're here, right?"

"Yes, and no one has answered my question."

"Okay, then." Yates cleared his throat. "Ianto, you're here because you suffer from schizophrenia." He paused when Ianto made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He cautiously continued when Ianto was too shocked to do anything more. "You have delusions, which we refer to as psychotic episodes, and for the past few days you've been refusing to take your medications because you thought you didn't need them anymore, and now it looks like you relapsed. You're having an episode that's making you think that it's part of your job to chase down aliens and protect the planet from them."

Ianto took a few steps back, eyes frantically moving between the two strangers standing before him and the journal he still held in his hands, feeling almost horrified at the idea that he was schizophrenic. Panic began to creep in and he barely held it at bay. "I'm not a patient here. There's been a misunderstanding. Last night I was running through a park, chasing a—" He cut himself off.

"Chasing what? An alien?" Yates stepped a little closer, stopping when Ianto backed up. "There are no such things as aliens, Ianto."

Ianto grunted. Of course Yates wouldn't believe that there were aliens; that was the whole point of Torchwood. They were supposed to keep the rest of the world as ignorant as possible about extraterrestrial life until they were ready. Jack constantly said that the twenty-first century was when it all changed, and certainly the people of earth were starting to become aware of strange occurrences, but it was still too soon. Whatever or however the earth's population managed to figure out aliens existed, it wasn't happening today. So no, Yates wouldn't believe in aliens.

But what about his journal and the sketchbook? Ianto floundered for an explanation for them. Ianto had never written anything about a mental hospital in his journal, and the drawings? Ianto was a decent artist, but he had left that hobby behind in his teenage years. He hadn't drawn much since then, so why were there drawings of aliens in a sketchbook that had his name on it?

"I know what you're thinking."

Ianto scoffed at Yates's words. "I highly doubt that."

"You're thinking that I don't believe in aliens, and that's why I keep telling you aliens don't exist. You're thinking that even though there are aliens out there, we mere earthlings don't know anything about it." Yates arched a brow. "Am I hitting the mark?"

Ianto didn't give him the satisfaction of answering the question. Instead, he said, "Just let me get out of here. I don't know how I ended up here or why, but I do know that this is one big mistake."

"There's no mistake." Another glance was shared between Yates and Glyn. "Your episodes tend to revolve around an organization called Torchwood, and you think you're a field agent and an archivist."

Ianto's fingers tightened on the journal, getting more agitated by the second. It was getting harder to hold back the panic. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but what I do know is that I'm getting out of here one way or another."

Yates shifted until he was blocking the door. "I know you're confused, but give yourself some time—"

Ianto didn't let him finish. He threw the journal at him and used the distraction to lunge for the door, but he was grabbed mid-air. He struggled against the strong arms of Glyn. "Get off of me!" he shouted. "This is a mistake. I don't belong here. I've never been here before. _Let go_."

"We need another orderly in here!" he heard Yates shout.

Another person ran into the room, a man in scrubs, and Ianto soon found himself struggling with two men. He put all his effort in his movements, desperate to get out, panic and adrenaline driving him. His arm was grabbed and tilted, and he felt a prick in his inner elbow. His struggles soon became sluggish, his limbs becoming more difficult to move. His gaze blurred slightly as Yates's face appeared before him. "I'm sorry, Ianto, but you're not getting out of here." Yates's words sounded so far away. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

Ianto struggled to stay awake, recognizing the effects of a sedative, but he couldn't, and eventually he lost the fight.

* * *

><p>Ianto looked out his window, watching people walk through the gardens. Some were dressed similarly to him, with striped pajamas underneath a robe and slippers on their feet. Others were dressed in either scrubs or medical coats. Some of the people were in wheelchairs, usually the elderly, but there were a few who seemed uninterested in their surroundings, looking at nothing as they were wheeled around the pathways of the gardens.<p>

He had never heard of the Whittier Psychiatric Hospital. The only hospital he knew of was Providence Park, and while he knew he didn't belong in Whittier, it didn't make it any easier to be in such a place. He felt uncomfortable, reminded too much of his mother's mental disorder, and of his fears regarding his own mental stability.

Ianto pressed his forehead against the window. He had had about an hour to think about his situation, and he was now sure that an alien was involved. For some reason, an alien had deposited him in this place, and he was sure it wasn't the Chyla. While they could be crafty and hostile, Chylas were more direct in their attacks. They were hotheaded and wouldn't waste time moving an enemy into a mental institution.

So it was the responsibility of another alien, one who had decided that putting him in a mental institution was a wise decision. It made Ianto wonder how 'wise' the alien truly was, because he failed to see the advantage of planting him in Whittier.

He had searched the room for his comm-link or phone, but failed to find either one. He couldn't find anything to use as a weapon or even something he could turn _into_ a weapon. There was nothing that was his, except for the journal (which he now believed was tampered with) and the sketchbook. Without any kind of communicating device, he couldn't contact the others, but surely they had realized by now that he was missing. If he couldn't find his way back to Torchwood, Torchwood would find a way to him.

Studying the gardens, or at least the part of which was visible to him, he speculated if he could escape. He was pretty sure the entire facility was enclosed behind brick walls, tall fences, or a combination of both, but there was always a weak spot. He would have to wait until he was outside.

The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder, glare already in place for Yates. But his eyes widened when instead of seeing the gray-haired doctor, there stood Owen.

Ianto quickly closed the distance between them. "You found me."

Owen smiled. "Yes, I did."

"Do you know what's going on?" Ianto glanced over Owen's shoulder, getting a glimpse of a clean and sterile hallway. On the other side of the hallway was another room, its door wide open. Most of the room was hidden from him, but he could see a desk and a girl sitting in front of it, her hair wild and curly. He looked back at Owen.

"What's going on is that you got a bit violent earlier."

Ianto grimaced. "I was a bit taken off-guard by my situation." And he regretted his actions. He was normally so cool and collected during the direst of situations, but this entire situation had thrown him completely. With his personal experiences with his mentally ill mother, the idea of being inside a mental institution was unnerving. He wanted to get out as soon as possible. "But never mind. What's the plan? Are the others with you?"

Owen shook his head. "There's no one with me, Ianto."

Ianto frowned. "Why? Are they waiting in the car?" Owen would probably be the best person to get him out, since he was the one with the medical background. He may not be experienced with patients who had mental disorders, but Owen most likely knew enough to pretend he did.

"Yates warned me that you relapsed." Owen sounded a bit curious, and not at all surprised.

Ianto's relief at being found dimmed. "What?"

"That's why he called me in today. He told me you relapsed and might possibly be having an episode, and since you're more comfortable with me than with Yates—"

Ianto blinked. "Owen, you don't have to pretend with me." He looked around. "Unless there are cameras around." He lowered his voice. "Are there cameras around?"

"Tell me about last night."

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he muttered. However, because it was Owen asking he said, "We were chasing after the Chyla."

"Who's 'we'?"

Ianto threw up his hands. "Who else? You, me, Tosh, and Jack."

"No Gwen this time," Owen murmured.

"Of course not, she's on her damn honeymoon." Disgusted by the situation, Ianto barely restrained himself from hitting Owen just so the doctor could stop asking ridiculous things. "Why are we just standing around here for? Get me out of here."

"Calm down. We're just talking—"

"No, we're wasting time. What's your plan?"

"Relax. I don't want to sedate you."

"Sedate—" Ianto stared and took a step back. His stomach clenched so tightly that it was almost a physical pain. "Owen?"

Owen gave him a soothing smile. "I'm one of your psychiatrists, have been for over a year. I work here."

No, this wasn't right. Owen was supposed to bitch and moan about Ianto's inability to keep himself out of enemy's hands. He was supposed to be scowling at him for his stupid mistake. "Please tell me you're acting," Ianto said shakily, "because you're really starting to scare me."

"This isn't an act, Ianto. I'm a psychiatrist here at Whittier. You're my patient, and I'm helping you with your schizophrenia."

Ianto's mind ran in frantic and confusing circles. It was perfectly possible that Owen was saying that because he couldn't speak the truth. Maybe Owen had to play the part so well that he was unable to verbally assure Ianto that Owen was pretending. However, Owen's left eyebrow always twitched when he lied. It was a quirk that Ianto kept to himself, unwilling to reveal it even when Owen demanded to know how Ianto knew when he was lying.

And just now, that eyebrow hadn't twitched at all.

Ianto took a deep breath. Okay, so something was going on with Owen. No problem. He would just have to remind Owen of who he was. "Owen, I don't have schizophrenia and I'm not your patient. We're both Torchwood operatives and we fight aliens on a constant basis. You may be the medic of the team, but you also go out in the field. Last night we were chasing after a Chyla, a sentient robot."

There was no recognition in Owen's eyes, no flicker of understanding or acknowledgement of Ianto's words. Owen merely shook his head and said, "There's no such thing as Torchwood, Ianto. I'm not a field agent, and neither are you. You're just a bit confused right now."

"I'm _not_ confused! Whatever's going on with you, snap out of it, Owen. Remember who you are."

"Okay, you're getting a bit agitated." Owen held out a hand and gently put it on Ianto's shoulder. "Calm down."

Calm down? How the hell was he supposed to _calm down_? Not only had an alien taken him and put him in a mental hospital, somehow, someway, the alien had also taken Owen. Worse than that, the alien seemed to have tampered with Owen's memories. It was the only thing that could explain why Owen was acting out of character and why he seemed to think that he was an actual doctor in a mental institution with Ianto as his patient, and it rendered him useless to Ianto's hopes of leaving the hospital.

He flicked his gaze over Owen's shoulder again, and this time the girl was looking right at him. She smiled, her teeth yellow, and her eyes were just a bit on the manic side.

"I'm not crazy," he stated flatly, if only to assure Owen that what came out of his mouth was the truth. He looked at Owen and kept his chin high. "You hear me? I'm not crazy."

"I never said you were." Owen stepped back and shifted, lifting up an arm to encompass the doorway. "You already missed breakfast, but how about some lunch?"

He didn't feel like eating. In fact, he wasn't sure his stomach would be able to hold anything other than the ball of anxiety. He was about to say no, until it occurred to him that Owen was inviting him to step outside the room. It would be able to see the place, perhaps even find a way to contact Jack and Tosh.

Owen opened the door wider, and the smile on his face was so out of place that Ianto was starting to freak out a little. He and Owen weren't the enemies they had been when Ianto had first joined the team, but never had Owen been so nice to him. Not even when Ianto was injured or wounded did Owen play nice. His exams were always accompanied by complaints and mild insults.

"Come on," Owen cajoled.

"I'm not a dog," Ianto snapped, resenting the way Owen was treating him like he was some wild animal who needed to be soothed.

"I know you're not." Owen nodded towards the hallway "But don't you want to see Tosh?"

Ianto's eyes sharpened. "Tosh is here?"

"Of course. She missed you at breakfast."

Tosh was in the hospital. That meant Jack and Tosh had managed to find them. Owen was of little help without his memories, but maybe Tosh had an answer for what was going on. She was probably pretending to be a visitor.

Ianto grabbed his robe and put it on before leaving his room and following Owen down the hallway. He glanced around, taking in the corridor that could only exist in a hospital, with its white walls, white ceiling, and white tiled floor. The only colors seen were the doors that led to patients' rooms, which wasn't saying much when the doors were steel.

While a few doors were closed, the majority of them were open. Some of the rooms were empty, but he spotted people of all sizes and colors in a lot of the rooms. In one room, he saw two men—one of whom was Glyn—struggling with a woman who was screeching and scratching at their arms.

The hallway led to a large area with chairs, a couple of TVs, bookcases, and tables. It looked like a lounge. There were several people sitting around and watching the television, but what disturbed Ianto the most was the few people who seemed to be talking to themselves. They were talking to the walls or to thin air.

"Ianto!"

Ianto turned to the sound of Tosh's voice, and he smiled when he saw her waving her hand frantically to catch his attention. She sat at one of the tables pushed up against a corner, and his smile faltered when he saw how she was dressed. She wasn't wearing casual clothing. Instead, she was wearing the same thing he was, pajamas and a robe.

Doubt flickered, but he told himself that maybe she needed to integrate herself into the hospital, pretend she was a patient. Patients would have better access to information than a visitor, and they would definitely have better access to other patients. He approached the table and spotted two trays, one in front of her and the other sitting in front of the empty chair. As he sat down, Owen grasped his shoulder and squeezed. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?" With another of his soothing smiles, he left.

Tosh was munching on her sandwich, and with her mouth full she said, "What happened to you at breakfast?"

Ianto looked around and spied a nurse a little too close for comfort. They couldn't talk without being overheard, so he decided to play along. "They sedated me. I got a bit agitated."

She swallowed. "Why?"

Ianto shrugged. "They told me I relapsed and am having an episode, or had an episode, or something like that."

Tosh pouted, which was unusual. Tosh wasn't the pouting kind. "I hate it when you have your episodes," she grumbled.

He felt his stomach drop. He calmed himself down before his doubt had a chance to grow. Surely Tosh was merely acting. She was better at it than Owen, to the point where Ianto still failed to figure out the quirk that was a dead giveaway to when Tosh lied.

"We always have to start all over," Tosh continued casually. "I mean, you know who I am, but you always think I'm a field agent for Torchwood." She took another bite of sandwich, staring directly into Ianto's eyes. "All right, let's get this over with. We're best friends, have been since the day you arrived. I suffer from hallucinations, but medications have helped and I only have the occasional hallucination nowadays."

Throughout her introduction, crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the table. Tosh was so unaware of her lack of manners that Ianto was rendered speechless. Tosh was always cautious of her manners, especially when she was with others.

The nearby nurse finally moved away and Ianto leaned in close so Tosh could hear across the table. "Okay, Tosh, tell me what's going on. Why am I in here?"

Tosh rolled her eyes. "Because you have delusions."

Fuck. Did the alien get to her, too? There was a flicker of doubt as the prospect that Tosh wasn't acting at all was brought up in his mind. "No," he said anxiously. "I mean, why did the alien put us here?"

"There are no aliens," she said, taking another bite of her sandwich and being completely oblivious to Ianto's budding agitation. "Like I said, you have delusions."

Ianto ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He took a different angle to the conversation. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't know." Tosh huffed, her lips twisting unpleasantly. "Like I give a crap about him. You should really get rid of him, find someone better."

Ianto blinked. "Okay," he said slowly. Tosh had never given her opinion about his relationship with Jack before, nor had she ever spoken of Jack with such vehemence in her tone. Even when Jack had sent Mary to the sun, Tosh hadn't spoken about Jack in that way. She had felt guilty for letting the alien manipulate her into bringing her into the hub, and she had expressed her fear that Jack wouldn't forgive her betrayal. Only Ianto's assurances that her betrayal wasn't as bad as his had convinced her that she would gain Jack's forgiveness.

Ianto shook off his surprise. It really wasn't the time to analyze Tosh's words. "Look, how are we going to get out of here?" Despite the growing evidence of Tosh's memories having been tampered with, Ianto was undeterred, unwilling to believe that not one but two of his usual allies were currently useless.

"When I stop hallucinating and you stop having your episodes."

Abruptly aggravated at the uncaring and casual way she responded to his questions, he hissed, "Tosh."

"Ianto," she hissed back.

Ianto jerked back in shock. Tosh had never acted like that towards him before. Her personality was turned completely upside down, just like Owen's.

Tosh must have caught his surprise because she sighed and reached out to touch the top of his hand that rested on the tabletop. "Sorry. I don't mean to be cross with you. It's just that the only way to get out of here is to get better, and I'm improving. I might be out within the next year at the rate I'm going and I would love to have you with me, but every time you improve you have one of your episodes and suddenly you're back to square one."

"I don't have episodes. Those are my real memories." He paused. Tosh had said that she hallucinated. If the doctors thought that his memories were delusions, then maybe Tosh's hallucinations were related to her actual memories of Torchwood. "What do you hallucinate about?"

"Oh, this and that." She giggled. "I once thought that this place was a dance hall in the nineteen-forties."

It took Ianto no more than a moment to know what memory she was referring to, and it gave him hope that he might be able to shake her memories loose if he could convince her that her hallucinations were a result of her Torchwood memories. He grabbed her hand to keep her attention on him. "Tosh, listen to me. That hallucination really did happen. You went into the past with Jack, remember?"

She scoffed. "I would never go anywhere with him, and it _was_ a hallucination. I know the difference now. I can tell between what's real and what's not, and I'm pretty sure time travel is impossible."

Tosh truly sounded like she believed what she was saying. Damn it, the alien had got to her, but why tamper with her memories? Or mess with Owen's memories? Why let Ianto keep his? Unless Ianto had been strong enough to fight off whatever the alien had used to strip him of his memories. Of course, there was a slight gap in his memories. He couldn't remember what had happened between his chase in the park as he ran after the Chyla and waking up in his room. Something might have gone wrong and it had left Ianto's memories intact, except for that space in time that would let him know he ended up in the hospital.

He needed to remember, though. There might be a clue as to who was behind this and the reason why, and so long as Tosh and Owen thought that they belonged in the institution, they couldn't help him.

Ianto tapped a finger against the table's surface. If Tosh was here as a patient and Owen as a doctor, Ianto wondered if Jack was here as well. "Tosh," he said slowly. "Is Jack here?"

"Stop saying his name," Tosh snapped.

"Okay." Ianto lifted his hands in surrender. "But is he here?"

"I told you, I don't know where he is. Now stop asking me." Ianto was officially exasperated and used the middle finger and thumb of one hand to rub at his temples. "Poor Ianto," Tosh crooned. "Don't worry, you'll start to remember." She returned to her meal, but not before saying, "Now eat up. I want to walk in the gardens today."

Ianto stared down at his food, a simple ham and cheese sandwich with an apple and a carton of milk. Tosh seemed to be enjoying her meal, but Ianto was unsure if the food was safe. He poked at it, examined it, and took a sniff. Looking around, he saw a few other patients eating the food as well. He hesitated as he looked at the sandwich he now held in his hands, but when his stomach grumbled he gave in and took a bite. He chewed slowly, but nothing in the taste suggested that the food had been tainted. As he ate, he considered his options.

He peered at Tosh from beneath his lashes. If Tosh considered them best friends, then that meant they spent a lot of time together. If he could talk to her, convince her that the life she thought she was living was a lie, then maybe she could help him recover Owen's memories or locate Jack.

Unless Jack was in the hospital with them, but after Tosh's less than pleasant reaction to his questions about Jack, he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask again. Whatever the alien had done, it had ensured that Tosh hated Jack, or at least hated the idea of Ianto and Jack together—which sparked another worry.

Jack and Ianto have never publicly announced their relationship, and the only way an alien would know that they were together was by spending a lot of time studying them. _A lot_ of time. That worried him. If the alien was using that kind of information to distort Tosh's memories, then he had to wonder how long the alien had watched them and how much information, if any, the alien had managed to glean from its surveillance.

Ianto put that worry aside and concentrated on his current predicament, which were his two practically amnesiac teammates.

When they finished their lunch, Tosh grabbed his hand and led him to the gardens, linking their fingers together and swinging their hands as they walked down the brick path. The hospital's gardens were much larger than the small area exposed to him from his window, and they all seemed to have different themes attached to particular sections with tiny signs that let people know what the themes were. There was a Japanese garden, a desert garden, an Australian garden, a botanical garden, and many others. Along with the numerous plants and flowers were the large trees, some of which were fruit trees.

Ianto took in the fresh scent of the numerous flowers, the fragrance pleasant. It really was beautiful, and it still made him wonder why he and his two teammates had been placed in the hospital. What was the purpose?

"Where in Wales are we?" he asked. He had been right in his assumption that there was a barrier surrounding the hospital. The gardens were completely barricaded by brick walls that were about eight feet tall. It made it difficult for him to get an idea of where he might be.

Tosh tilted her head up towards the sky. "Don't you know?"

"No."

She glanced at him. "That episode really scrambled your brain, didn't it?" Her eyes turned curious. "What were we doing this time? In your episode, I mean."

Ianto resisted the urge to correct her once again that they weren't episodes. For now, he would have to accept her terminology for his memories. "We got a rift alert around nine at night, and the coordinates pointed to a park. We went after it and learned that it was a Chyla. We split apart to trap it, to make sure it didn't leave the area, and it ran past me. I gave chase and then—" Ianto paused, struggling to remember. "I don't know what happened after that because the next thing I knew, I woke up here." He observed her reaction, but just like Owen, nothing about his words seemed to trigger a reaction that indicated she knew what he was talking about.

"You know what I never got about your episodes? Why I was both a computer geek and a field agent." She snorted and bent over to smell a flower. "Can only operate the basics of computers." She pointed at him. "That should tell you how your episodes are delusions and not reality."

Ianto was disappointed by her answer. "You never answered my question. Where are we?"

"Cardiff."

Thank god. They were still in the city. Ianto's relief melted into confusion. If the hospital was still in Cardiff, why hadn't Ianto ever heard of it? He knew everything about the city. No one knew more than he did. Or had he read about it only to forget it because it bore no importance? Ianto knew about Providence Park only because that was where his mother had been institutionalized. Maybe Whittier hadn't been as important to his mind as Providence Park had been.

Still, being in Cardiff meant that Jack would be able to find him, or give Ianto a chance to locate him and let him in on what was happening. But in order to locate Jack, he needed a bit of help.

Ianto tugged on Tosh's hand. "Please, you have to remember. We do work for Torchwood, and you are the most intelligent person I know, a master with computers." Ianto scrambled for anything that would jolt Tosh's memories. "Remember Tommy? You fell in love with him. Or Mary, do you remember Mary?"

"Mary was a hallucination, and Tommy was someone you came up with in your episodes."

"What about your love for Owen?"

Tosh flushed. "Not so loud," she muttered, looking around as if to ensure none of the patients passing them by overheard him.

Yes! Finally, something the alien hadn't been able to take away. "So you remember you love him."

"That's why I hallucinated about Mary, and that's why you had a delusion about me falling in love with Tommy. You told me the story about him." She shrugged. "I guess we were both trying to come up with a way for me to be happy." She suddenly chuckled. "But really, how can I be in love with three different people in such a short amount of time?"

Ianto couldn't believe it. There seemed to be an answer for everything he came up with.

"My turn." Tosh released his hand to place it and its mate on her hips, arms akimbo. "Do you remember how we met?"

"Jack introduced us on my first day at Torchwood." Tosh had been the nicest to him. Owen had snarked and Suzie had practically ignored him (they both came around once they tasted his coffee, though), but Tosh had said hello and had even spent a few minutes conversing with him before Ianto began his duties. "You gave me tips on how to handle Suzie and Owen."

Tosh had started shaking her head before he was finished. "No, not how we met in your delusions—"

"They're not delusions!" Delusions sounded so much worse than episodes. He could tolerate the word 'episodes,' but not 'delusions.' His mother had had delusions. "They're real memories, and if I can just find the proper trigger for you, you'd get your real memories, too."

She lifted a hand, silently telling him to stop talking. "Okay, let me tell you how we really met. You had just been brought in talking about dinosaurs and Weevils, and a couple of days after you were brought here, I was taken hostage by another patient who was having a paranoid hallucination. You head-butted him and saved me."

Ianto was already shaking his head before she finished. "No, that's not how we—"

_She looked so scared, kneeling on the floor, and Ianto didn't even think before he grabbed the patient by the shoulder, twirled him around, and head-butted him, sending the man to the ground and letting her scramble away to safety, her eyes glowing with gratitude._

"—met," Ianto finished slowly as the image flashed through his mind. He turned and frowned. Where in the hell had that come from?

"Well, no, but we met the next day. You were taken into isolation for a little bit—the staff thought you were violent—but once they realized you were just protecting me, they allowed you to interact with the rest of us. I went to your room and that's when we met. I introduced myself, and since then we've been the closest of friends."

Ianto rubbed his forehead. "I remember how we met and that wasn't it."

"You'll remember eventually." She grabbed his hand once more.

They continued to walk, although at this point it was more like Tosh was walking and Ianto was simply dragged. Tosh waved at an old man in a wheelchair, who smiled back. Ianto smiled as well, but his heart wasn't in it. He wanted to go home, and two of his comrades were out of commission—sort of. Either way, unless Ianto found Jack, he was practically on his own, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

He did, however, look around the gardens to find a possible escape route. Orderlies and nurses were everywhere, and he caught sight of a few cameras perched on the building—a rather large building, now that he was outside to see it—so security wasn't very lax. From where he walked on the paths, he couldn't see any way out due to the brick walls. He wanted to take a closer look at the walls and see if there was a weak spot in the form of a loose brick or two, but he couldn't do it with Tosh. He would have to wait until he was alone.

As they were heading back to the building, they bumped into Owen. Tosh blushed slightly as Owen smiled. _Kindly_. Good god, it was just so damn creepy.

"Here you two are." Owen studied Ianto. "Still can't remember?"

"I remember just fine, thank you. It's you two who need to remember."

"Well, in the meantime, come along. Time for your medications."

"I don't need medication," Ianto grumbled, but neither one paid attention to him, and with a huff of annoyance, he followed the two when they began to head back inside. He was perfectly aware he was on the verge of sulking, but who wouldn't? He was in a mental institution with two of his co-workers who couldn't remember who they were, Jack was currently MIA, and Gwen was somewhere in Paris with her new husband for their honeymoon.

Gwen. Of course! She should be safe since she wasn't in Wales. He couldn't deny the possibility that the alien might have plucked her from France and returned her to Wales, but the more optimistic possibility was that she was still safe in France, putting her in a good position to provide him with assistance. She had her phone with her, having warned the team to call her if they truly needed her help, and while Ianto hated to interrupt her honeymoon, if Jack didn't show up and if Ianto couldn't jostle the memories of Owen and Tosh, then he would contact her and ask for her help.

"Can I call someone?"

Owen led them to the lounge, glancing at him over his shoulder. "You know the rules, Ianto."

"No, I don't. I only arrived last night."

Tosh had attached herself to Owen's side, grasping his arm. She didn't seem as worried about keeping her feelings to herself as usual. "Supervised calls during the day. No calls during the night," Tosh said over her shoulder, sounding like she was reciting it from memory.

Owen patted her arm. "Very good." She visibly melted and cuddled against his side. "Was there someone you wanted to contact, Ianto?"

"Maybe."

"Who?"

"Gwen."

They both stopped and turned to stare at him. Tosh's stare was incredulous, and Owen's was more of the caught off-guard variety. Okay, so the name had obviously been unexpected and had managed to elicit strong reactions from both of them. For a moment, he thought that Gwen's name had been the trigger for their memories, but Tosh's words quickly dispelled him of that notion.

"That's another reason why I hate your episodes," Tosh complained. "Your delusions turn that bitch into your friend."

For all the dislike Tosh had showed when he had mentioned Jack, she sounded downright hateful towards Gwen, her voice filled with contempt.

"But you know her," Ianto said slowly. He looked at the two of them. "The both of you know her."

"Only through you."

"So you never met her?" Both of them shook their heads. "But you had an affair with Gwen!" he exclaimed, looking at Owen.

Tosh looked murderous. "He did not," she denied shortly. She turned to Owen with wide eyes, suddenly looking unsure. "You didn't, did you?" Her voice was soft and hopeful.

Owen disentangled himself from Tosh. "I never met Gwen, let alone had an affair with her." Tosh grinned, but Owen's attention was all on Ianto. "But I highly suggest you hold off on calling her. You'll thank me once you get your memories back."

Owen turned towards a nurse, who walked towards them with a tray filled with tiny paper cups that held a variety of pills. Ianto didn't recognize any of them. Owen grabbed two cups and handed one to Tosh and the other to Ianto. Ianto eyed the two pills in his cup, wondering what they would do to him. First rule of thumb was not to take something he didn't recognize, and he wasn't about to take unnamed pills that could potentially harm him. That was probably what the alien wanted to begin with.

He looked up and saw Tosh about to put her pills in her mouth. "Don't!" He hastily took the medication from her. "These are probably why you don't remember."

Owen reached for Tosh's medication, but Ianto dropped both cups he held in his hands to the ground, the pills rolling away. Owen sighed, the sound slightly irritated. "Ianto, why did you do that?"

"Because something fucked with your minds and these pills might be responsible."

"What, like retcon?"

"Yes!" Ianto stared at them, but then the bubble of hope deflated as fast as it had formed. "You don't know what retcon is, do you?

"Of course we do." Tosh shrugged a shoulder. "You told us that they're these amnesic pills that your 'Torchwood' gives to people to make them forget things." Tosh had used her fingers to quote the word Torchwood.

Ianto rubbed a hand down his face. "Of course I did." He saw Owen hand Tosh another cup of pills. Ianto went to grab them but Owen held them out of reach.

"Glyn," Owen called.

Ianto glanced over in Glyn's direction, who was already heading towards them with a determined expression on his face. "Yeah?"

"Stand by in case we have problems." Owen gave Ianto a knowing look, one full of warning. He began to hand the pills to Tosh, and again Ianto shifted, intending to slap them out of Owen's hand, but Glyn had shifted also, now eyeing Ianto intently.

Remembering how Glyn had held him earlier as Yates sedated him, Ianto took a step back and looked away. He would be no good to Tosh or Owen if he was sedated. So he stood by as Tosh swallowed the pills and drank a glass of water.

When Owen held out another cup of pills for Ianto, he said, "I just tried to ensure Tosh didn't take any pills. You really expect me to take them?"

"Don't make this harder on yourself," Owen said. "These help with your delusions."

Tosh nodded eagerly at him, though Ianto wasn't sure if she was nodding because she truly wanted Ianto to take them or simply because she liked agreeing with Owen. "Take them. Look at me! Nothing happened."

"They're not the same pills." He smiled sweetly at Owen. "These might kill me."

"Take them, Ianto."

Ianto narrowed his gaze as he and Owen stared at each other, a silent challenge issued and accepted. "You can't make me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll have to force them down my throat, and I do believe that's against the law."

Owen closed his eyes briefly. "Ianto, please reconsider. These pills are not going to harm you, they're meant to help you with your schizophrenia, and taking them is the only way to get your episodes under control again."

"No."

"Ianto."

"_No._"

Owen spent a few more minutes trying to persuade him, but Ianto adamantly refused. Owen couldn't force him to take the pills without his consent, not unless Ianto lacked the capacity to make an informed decision concerning medication. Since Ianto did have the capacity, Owen's hands were obviously tied and he didn't have any justification to forcefully medicate him.

As expected, Owen eventually stopped trying to persuade Ianto to take the pills. Instead, he handed the pills to a nurse. Pleased, Ianto turned to Glyn. "Looks like we don't need you after all."

Glyn arched a brow. "For now." He walked away.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped.

"Okay now, Ianto?" Yates asked, moving to stand next to him.

Ianto scowled. "You sedated me."

"I had to. You were getting too out of control."

He couldn't deny it, but that didn't make him any happier. Yates squeezed his shoulder and Ianto shrugged it off. "I would appreciate it if you didn't touch me."

Yates held his hands up. "As you wish, but it's time for your session."

"Session?" Ianto frowned at him. "What session?"

"Twice a week at noon you have a session where we discuss your episodes, you recovery, or other things. You either have them with me or with Dr. Harper, and today it's my turn."

Ianto hesitated and looked at Owen. "In private?"

Owen scrutinized him for a moment before looking at Yates. "Why don't you let me take care of the session today? I think Ianto would prefer that, yeah?"

Ianto nodded, resisting the urge to make the movement frantic. If the session was a private one, it would give Ianto a chance to talk to Owen, find the trigger to reawaken his memories.

But Yates was shaking his head. "It's best we keep the session as planned. You know how Ianto is during an episode. He'll spend the whole hour trying to convince you that you're an agent." Shit. Damn bastard. He glared at Yates, who gave him a smile. "You've done it before," he explained, "and trying to convince Dr. Harper he's an agent isn't going to help in your recovery."

"But—"

"Now come along, Ianto."

Ianto glowered. What was it with these doctors talking to him like he was an agitated puppy? In defiance, he stayed where he was, tilting his chin high. He tried to look as intimidating as possible, letting Yates know that he wasn't going anywhere.

Yates cocked a brow and said, "Do you really want to be dragged into the session room in a straitjacket?"

Ianto's eyes widened and he glanced from Yates to Owen, uncertain. He knew they couldn't forcefully medicate him, but did the law apply to being purposely restrained? He wasn't sure. The idea of being forced into a straitjacket was just as unnerving as being in the mental institution itself. Hell, perhaps it was worse because only the truly crazy were put into straitjackets. That was what his father had said, and that was what Ianto had witnessed when he had visited his mother. While Ianto was still unsure of what was going on, the one sure thing he knew was that he wasn't crazy.

With a sigh of defeat, he waved at Tosh when she wriggled her fingers at him as he followed Yates out of the lounge.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

They went down a different hallway than the one that housed his room, although this new hallway was just as white and sterile as the other one.

Yates opened the first door to the right and Ianto reluctantly entered, looking around as Yates closed the door behind him. The room wasn't as sparse as his room. It was decorated with pictures hanging on the walls and plotted plants displayed in corners. There was a big comfortable-looking couch, a couple of chairs, a desk, a table, and even a nice fluffy rug. There were cabinets and bookcases stuffed with books.

"Why is this room better than my own?" he asked, remembering the bare walls of his room.

"Because you choose not to decorate your room." Yates closed the door, and Ianto grimaced at how final the quiet click of the closing door sounded. "You can decorate your room with as much stuff as you want, as long as there isn't anything that could cause you or the others harm." Yates opened one of the cabinet drawers and pulled out a notebook. He closed the drawer and sat on his lounge chair. "Your room is yours to do as you wish with it, but there are restrictions, as you well know."

"No, I don't know." Ianto perched on the couch, too uncomfortable to sit back and relax. He was practically sitting at the edge.

"Well, now you do." Yates opened the notebook he had grabbed. He took out some glasses from the left-breast pocket on his medical coat and slipped them on. "So tell me, what adventure did you have last night?" He pulled out a pen from the same pocket he had taken his glasses from.

"I already told Owen—"

"And I want you to tell me. You can't get better if you believe your episode is real."

Ianto rolled his eyes and looked away. There was a window, giving him a view of the gardens outside, although it was a different view than the one he had from his own room. "They're not episodes."

"All right, let's have it your way. What happened last night? Where did you go?"

Ianto frowned at him. "You're not going to believe me anyway."

"This isn't about what I believe; it's about what you believe. Now answer the question."

Ianto clutched at his thighs, resisting the urge to lunge forward and punch the doctor's jaw. The only thing that kept him from hurting the doctor was that Yates was an innocent old man who was probably being used by the alien in some way.

But what he said was true. Yates wouldn't believe a word he said—so why not just tell him? Ianto smiled. "Fine." He repeated what he told Owen and Tosh, mentioning the Chyla, the park, the running. "And I woke up here. I don't know how, I don't know why. Satisfied?"

Yates was taking some notes, pen scribbling. "Do you remember your first day here?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? I've never been here before."

The doctor considered him for one long moment. "Okay, then let me tell you why you were brought here." Yates crossed his legs and clasped his hands over a bent knee. The pen was tucked between two fingers. "You were brought to us after experiencing a few delusions, all of which involved you being a junior researcher at a place called Torchwood One."

Just how much did Yates _know_? Ianto struggled to keep the incredulity off his face, the utter shock that this stranger knew about Torchwood One and about Ianto's past employment there.

"Who told you?" he demanded. No one had known about where he worked, not even his own family. Was it the alien responsible for this whole mess that provided Yates with the information? Jesus, if that was the case, it only made him more nervous about an unknown enemy having had the patience and the drive to spy on the team.

"You told me, Ianto. Once we were able to control your delusions, you were able to tell me what they were about."

"At the risk of repeating myself, I don't have delusions, and just to let you know, I would never tell you anything." He eyed Yates suspiciously. Ianto didn't confide his secrets to anyone, a trait he shared with Jack, and one of the reasons why he respected Jack's desire to keep some of his secrets private.

"But you did tell me." The doctor was either oblivious of Ianto's suspicious eye or didn't care. "Your move to this hospital worsened your delusions. You thought you were in the middle of an alien war and referred to it as the Battle of Canary Wharf."

"That's bullshit, because the Battle of Canary Wharf—" Ianto cut himself off, cursing himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. His wounds still hadn't quite healed from what he went through. He was pretty sure he would never actually heal from such a traumatic experience, not completely, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about the battle with Yates.

"What about the battle?" Yates asked, leaning forward a bit.

"None of your business," Ianto snapped. He hunched, and he could hear Jack's light scolding of his tendency to hunch his shoulders whenever he was feeling vulnerable. He didn't like the direction the conversation was going at all. "What happened at Canary Wharf—it's none of your business."

"I disagree." Yates glanced down at his notebook. He began to flip through pages. "Would it make you feel better if I state the things you've already told me?" When Ianto said nothing, Yates said, "It was a battle between Cybermen and Daleks. You were caught in the third floor—"

"Stop it." The words were sharper than Ianto had intended them to be, but the words were bringing up horrible memories that he had tried so hard to bury. "Just stop it."

There was silence for several minutes. Ianto looked out the window again, but he wasn't really seeing anything out there. His thoughts kept bouncing from his current situation to the crisis he had faced in the research department, trapped while his co-workers died all around him. He remembered his frantic search for Lisa, his fear that she had been killed, and his horror when he had finally found her on a conversion unit. He had issues, Ianto would never deny that, but never had he had someone know about the trauma that created those issues. Even Jack didn't know much about Ianto's experiences during the battle.

It made him wonder what else the good doctor knew.

"Your delusions aren't real, Ianto." Yates voice was soft. "You think they are, but I can assure you that you never went through something like that."

"So you're telling me that Canary Wharf hadn't been damaged? That the building there hadn't been destroyed?" Ianto stare was direct, challenging Yates's words.

Yates didn't back down. "Nothing has happened in Canary Wharf. It remains untouched by any kind of destruction."

"Can you prove it?"

Yates pursed his lips and stood up. "Fine." He opened the laptop sitting on his desk and typed something. He brought the laptop over and he showed the screen to Ianto, and he realized that the screen was filled with multiple pictures of Canary Wharf. Ianto peered at them, but nothing seemed out of place, which struck him as odd.

The building that had been Torchwood One had been destroyed, nothing left but a skeleton of steel beams, yet there stood a perfectly undamaged building in the same spot Torchwood One had once stood. He looked for dates, but some were fairly recent—too recent to prove his claim that a battle had occurred in Canary Wharf.

He looked up at Yates. "Mind if I borrow your laptop?"

"Yes." Yates promptly closed the laptop. Ianto scowled. Yates carried the laptop back to his desk and resumed sitting in his chair across from Ianto. "Delusions work in all sorts of ways, Ianto. You think a battle occurred, but it's been concluded that the battle was a sort of euphemism for your move to this hospital. You weren't exactly pleased to be here in the beginning." Yates smiled a little. "On your first day here, when you were caught up in a delusion, you accidentally gave Dr. Harper a black eye as he tried to talk to you. Do you remember that?"

"I may want to kick his arse several times in a twenty-four hour period, but I've never—"

_Owen was giving him a smile, his black eye vibrant under the sunlight peeking into the room, and Ianto knew that he was responsible because of the ache in the knuckles of his own right hand._

"—given Owen a black eye." Ianto kept his face as bland as possible, unwilling to show even a hint of emotion over the image he just had. It wasn't a memory. He had been tempted to several times, but he had never acted on any of his impulses to hit Owen (shooting Owen didn't count, since technically he had been trying to prevent the doctor from opening the rift, which was a professional thing to do under the circumstances). Whatever these flashes were, they weren't memories. It must be the alien's doing.

Yates flipped a page in his notebook. "I admit that it wasn't intentional. When you were lucid, you were apologetic. You met him before you met me—we didn't meet until a week later—so he was able to gain your trust, and I think that's why you decided to add Dr. Harper to your delusions of Torchwood Three."

Ianto didn't bother to repeat that they were his real memories and not delusions. It seemed everyone was going to ignore his protests concerning the words. Instead, he decided to ask his own questions. "And why would I trust him more than I trust you?"

"Dr. Harper is a bit indulgent with his patients. You've seen him with Tosh. His approach is different from mine when we treat the patients. I'm a bit more strict, less likely to be your friend." Yates's green eyes peered at him. "Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"No," he said quickly, unwilling to admit the strange vision he had. "If you're so sure that my memories are delusions, why would I create such elaborate delusions of working for an organization that deals with aliens? Why would I have these delusions at all?"

"I feel that you created this organization to help you cope. It's a safe place for you, a place that is so far removed from your reality that any of the problems or dilemmas you face in this reality is easier to deal with or eliminate completely in your delusions."

Ianto scoffed. "If what you say is true, I wouldn't have made Owen such an arsehole in my so-called delusions, and I wouldn't have made Tosh so hopeless in love. If anything, I would have made them into a couple." Only after he said the words did Ianto realize how much information he was giving away about his memories. It was easy to talk about it when one considered that Yates seemed to know more than he should about Ianto's life. His Torchwood life, at least.

"That's the interesting thing about your delusions," Yates mused, sounding just a bit fascinated. "You see, we believe your delusions are somewhat influenced by your background and current situation of being in this place. Relationships between doctors and patients are strictly prohibited, so that forbiddance was transferred into your delusions and you changed both of their personalities to explain why they're not together. When you're lucid, you know that Tosh and Dr. Harper can't be together. You've told Tosh more than once to find someone else."

Ianto had certainly told Tosh to find someone else, although he had never been that blunt. He usually nudged her, pointing out the flaws in Owen. Tosh, of course, always came to his defense. Even when Owen had become a zombie—

Ianto's eyes widened. Bloody hell, how could he forget something as important as that? If there was one sure way of proving that he was right about his memories, it was Owen's deceased status.

His brief moment of brilliance was chased with a question, though. If the Owen who thought himself a Whittier doctor was dead, why hadn't he noticed his lack of a heartbeat or lack of a pulse?

Another question that needed an answer, but first things first; Ianto needed to talk to Owen alone.

"Are we done?"

Yates gave Ianto a disbelieving look. "We've just began. We have a whole hour."

"Wonderful," Ianto grumbled. Now that he had a way to prove that he wasn't crazy, he was stuck in Yates's office rather than be given the opportunity to hunt down Owen. It would be the first time that Ianto wanted to be alone with Owen for any reason, but Ianto didn't care. He just really wanted to get out of this damn place.

"Who put me in here anyway?" he asked abruptly.

"You were committed by a concerned loved one." Yates paused for a second, considering his notes. "Your schizophrenic, Ianto," Yates said gently, as if he needed reminding for why he was in the hospital. "You're at the age where adults exhibit symptoms of the disease. You're mostly lucid and aware when you're on your meds, but when you're off them you have episodes where you forget about your reality, and that's what's happening right now. That's why you don't remember what's really going on, and this isn't the first time that you've decided to stop taking your meds." Yates's paused again, as though he was letting the words sink in in the hopes that Ianto understood. "You think you're a Torchwood agent, but you're nothing more than a patient here."

"I'm not schizophrenic." He refused to be schizophrenic.

To be diagnosed with such a mental illness, even in an alien-created world, had always been one of his greatest fears. After his mother had been committed and after his father had finally admitted what had been wrong with her, Ianto had done his research. Schizophrenia wasn't necessarily hereditary, but genetic factors did play a role in children who were diagnosed with it, as did environmental factors. Having a mother with the illness and growing up the way he did, along with what he went through in London and nearly dying at the hands of cannibals—like Yates had said, he was at the age where most schizophrenics begin to show symptoms. He had always been afraid of waking up one morning and exhibiting symptoms that he wouldn't be aware of until someone else pointed them out to him—or until someone got hurt.

Ianto dug deep to present the doctor with an effective glare. "I don't have schizophrenia, okay? Aliens do exist. I've seen them with my own eyes. Some of them even attempted to kill me."

"It is things like that that has led you to this hospital," Yates said. "Your loved one—"

"I don't know who this concerned loved one is nor do I care, but what I do know is that this is nothing more than some huge mistake." He smiled grimly. "And I know how to prove it."

"You do?"

"Yes." Yates stayed silent, as though waiting for him to explain his plan. "I'm not going to tell you. I'll show you, once I'm allowed to leave this room, that is." He added an edge to his words, letting the good doctor know that he wanted the session to be over and done with.

Yates wasn't swayed, of course. "Look, I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you, but it's crucial for you to understand your situation. When you were first brought here your delusions were constant, mostly due to the fact that you refused the medication we gave you. But once you started taking your medication, your delusions dramatically decreased. The only problem is that you still have the occasional episode when you're on your meds, and when you're off you're meds your episodes increase and get more intense, and about ninety-nine percent of your delusions are of Torchwood." Yates sighed. "I believe that the reason why you have trouble letting go of your delusions is because you can't let go that Torchwood doesn't exist."

"It _does_ exist." Ianto leaned forward. "We protect the earth from hostile aliens, we protect peaceful aliens from hostile humans, and at times we even help displaced people who traveled through time. That's what Torchwood does."

"And that's the problem. You believe in its existence so strongly that I've come to the conclusion that while pills and the therapy do help, we need another way for you to let go of Torchwood, to accept its nonexistence while you are lucid."

"And how do you propose we do that?" He couldn't quite hold back some sarcasm.

"You need to give something up, something that protects your Torchwood."

Ianto was instantly wary. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you need to say out loud, in front of me or others, the access codes."

Ianto stiffened. "What access codes?"

"You described, in detail, a lot of things about your Torchwood. Myfanwy, how the hub sits underground in Cardiff, a rift running through it—you mention all of that when you're lucid. You've even written them in your journal. You've also mentioned how there are access codes that must be protected at all costs because in the wrong hands, it'll allow access to Torchwood's mainframe." Yates seemed mildly confused by the last few words, as if he was unsure what a mainframe was. "I asked you for the codes once. You were hesitant to give them to me and I didn't push, but now I think that if you give up those access codes, you'll finally be giving up the thing that keeps you from fully letting go of your delusions."

The idea Yates was proposing was absolutely ridiculous. The access codes were a series of numbers that would give anyone who knew the codes complete access to Torchwood's mainframe. They would have access to files, weapons, programs, the CCTV, and have the ability to put the hub on total lockdown. If the access codes landed in the wrong hands, vital information could be used against Torchwood, or even against earth.

Only he and Jack knew the access codes, and Ianto hadn't been given the codes right away. It was only after Jack had returned from his trip with the Doctor that Jack had given them to him, stating that while he had no plans to abandon them again, if Jack had to go off-planet for whatever reason, he wanted someone who wouldn't abuse the access codes to have them.

Ianto had been honored. The others weren't any less trustworthy, but Owen was irresponsible, Tosh was more concerned with her technology and computers, and Gwen was focused on keeping her normal life and her Torchwood job separate. Ianto wasn't in second-in-command, but he was definitely more dependable, more reliable to keep Torchwood and all its secrets, even the bad ones, safe from enemies.

Ianto would never admit it to anyone, let alone an outsider, that Torchwood had access codes. As he took in the eagerness in Yates's expression, Ianto began to think that the alien responsible for this was the man sitting across from him. Why else would the doctor suggest he give up the codes?

For that reason, his words were cold and just a bit hard when he said, "Dr. Yates, whoever told you that was giving you faulty information. I don't have any access codes to Torchwood's mainframe." If Yates was the alien, Ianto wasn't going to let Yates know of his suspicions. Until he had confirmation, it was better to pretend that he considered the older man an ignorant, human doctor. "Now I suggest you forget ever hearing about those codes."

"I can't."

"I am telling you—"

"Do you think I want you here?"

Ianto was taken aback by the abrupt question that seemingly had no relation to what they were just discussing. "Excuse me?"

Impatiently, Yates pointed at him with his pen. "Do you think I enjoy having all of you here, watching your mental illnesses take over your lives? You had a good life, Ianto, and I want you to have that life back." He lowered his hand, but his stare was serious and intense. "You are here so long as you keep having your delusions, so I'm going to do whatever it takes for you to accept that Torchwood doesn't exist so you can go back home."

"Don't worry about me. I'll get myself home, and I'm taking Tosh and Owen with me."

Yates leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. "I can't help but worry about you. You're my patient—"

"I thought I was Owen's patient." He knew he was being purposely obtuse and difficult, but if it annoyed Yates enough to end the session sooner rather later, so be it.

"You're my patient as well as his. But as I was saying, you're my patient and I will do what I can to help you let go of your delusions, and that includes convincing you to give up your access codes." When Ianto said nothing, Yates urged, "Look through your journal. I'm sure you have an entry or two about them, and you'll see I'm right."

"You're wrong. There's nothing more to it."

Despite Ianto's attempts, the session did indeed last an hour, most of which was dominated by repetitive claims by Yates that Torchwood didn't exist and angry retorts by Ianto that it did. By the time Yates let him go, telling him he was free to roam the hospital, Ianto was already out the door.

It wasn't until he left that he realized the irony. The one goal of Torchwood was to keep its existence a secret, and he had just spent the last hour trying to convince the doctor that it did exist.

Anxious to find Owen and prove once and for all that Torchwood wasn't a delusion, Ianto looked around the hospital, taking the opportunity to study the hospital's layout for escape routes while he was at it. His room was on the first floor, but there were two others floors as well. He was given free rein to explore the second floor, but he was quick to discover that he was barred from the third. A nurse stationed there kindly told him that the third floor harbored isolation cells, set aside for only the most violent of patients. There was constant surveillance and more often than not, the patients were locked in their rooms. Prevented from investigating, Ianto left the third floor quickly.

He returned to the gardens, and while he did look around for Owen, he took the chance to seek out weak spots in the brick walls. There was a lot of ground to cover—the gardens must be an acre alone—but whenever he could, he ran his hand across different sections of the brick wall that surround the gardens.

Walking through yet another garden bed and silently apologizing to the flowers and plants he trampled, he brushed his palm across the rough bricks, trying not to look too conspicuous. He often had to abandon the wall whenever someone looked his way, but as soon as he was being unwatched he returned to his search for any weak spots that could be used to his advantage.

His fingers finally snagged on a brick that seemed loose. He squatted and singled out the brick. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, and he began to pull at the brick as fast as he could. He wiggled it frantically until it gave way, and he yanked until the brick finally slid out completely.

He placed the brick aside and peered through the opening. Wherever the hospital was, it was built on top of several acres because he saw a lot of greenery and trees, and in the distance he saw what looked like buildings. He strained his ears, but couldn't hear the expected noise of the city, just birds and the rustle of leaves. Despite the view, he was still unsure of where he was in Cardiff. It didn't look like he was anywhere near the center of it.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Ianto jerked away from the wall and accidentally fell on his bottom. He grunted as he felt a rock dig into his flesh. Great, he would probably get a bruise on his ass.

He blinked up and discovered Glyn standing over him with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Nothing," he said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The orderly studied him with his dark gaze before turning his attention to the wall. He stepped into the garden bed and toed the loose brick sitting in the dirt.

"I didn't do that," Ianto blurted. Realizing that it was probably a much better idea to stand, he climbed to his feet and brushed off the dirt from his robe. "It was like that and I was, ah, I was . . ."

"Taking in the view?" Glyn raised a questioning brow.

"Yes." Ianto nodded firmly. "There's only so much one can take looking at red bricks stacked on top of each other."

Glyn bent down and picked up the brick. "Looks like I'll need to find someone to fix that space."

Ianto slid his hands into the pockets of his robe. "I guess so." Damn it, he might have been able to use that space for his escape. Okay, maybe not, but it was possible that the tiny opening could have been used somehow. He watched as the orderly put the brick back in place. No doubt someone would be brought in to put a bit more cement there so the brick couldn't be removed again. He cleared his throat. "Where exactly is Whittier in Cardiff?"

The orderly stepped away from the wall. "Still can't remember?" He moved out of the garden bed and wiped the soles of his shoes on the concrete pathway.

"No." It was technically true, since Ianto couldn't remember how the alien brought him to the hospital and, therefore, couldn't remember where the hospital was situated at. But he was pretty sure Glyn's words were in reference to the supposed episode that was currently scrambling his memory.

Glyn indicted for Ianto to get off the garden bed with a wave of his hand. Ianto stepped out as Glyn answered. "We're not too far from Slanney Woods."

Hell, no wonder the signs of an urban city were far away. Slanney Woods wasn't too far away from the Vale of Glamorgan, which was an agricultural area. Acres of land all around. The further anyone drove away from the center of Cardiff, the less visible urban life was, and for anyone heading towards Slanney Woods, urban life melted away to a lot of acres of land that lacked any sign of city life. Perfect place to build a mental institution; still in the city, but practically isolated. The alien had certainly done its homework.

Ianto took comfort from the fact that if he was able to see a few structures in the distance, he wasn't too far away from civilization. If he managed to find a ride, he was less than half an hour away from the hub.

"Thanks," Ianto said, smiling a bright and very false smile before turning around and returning to his mission of locating Owen.

As he returned to the hospital building, it occurred to him that he hadn't found Gwen or Jack while he had been walking around. That could be viewed as a positive sign. It could mean that Jack truly wasn't in the mental hospital and was currently finding a way to save them, and that Gwen was still out there on her honeymoon, making her available if Ianto needed her help.

On the other hand, it could mean that both Jack and Gwen had been captured and were on the third floor, isolated and monitored hourly. Was that why the alien had planted them there in the hospital? The team was strong as a unit so the alien's decision to relocate them might be its attempt to weaken them and make sure that they couldn't have contact with each other.

Well, wasn't that going to be fun? One man saving three, possibly four, people and getting them out of a mental institution. He groaned at the thought. Unlike Jack, Ianto didn't get a kick out of being a hero. He did his job and took a certain amount of pride at saving a life or two, but he didn't really consider himself a hero of any kind. He was just a man who happened to help protect the earth and its people. The very idea of attempting a rescue from this place made his stomach clench slightly. It wasn't going to be an easy job. It was going to be damn near impossible, actually.

If last night was of any indication, his door was locked at night and during the day the patients were watched, and all his teammates were either isolated or were stripped of their memories. His only hope was that Gwen and Jack were somewhere out there, safe and with their memories intact. In fact, Ianto decided to be optimistic and believe that Jack and Gwen weren't in the hospital and were currently working together to find them. With three teammates missing, Jack wouldn't let a honeymoon stop him from contacting Gwen for help.

He spotted Owen leaving the building, talking to the patient walking at his side. Ianto quickly made his way to the doctor.

"Owen."

Owen glanced his way. "Hold on, Ianto."

"No." Ianto gave the male patient an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but this is important."

The patient looked unhappy and mildly insulted with the intrusion. "How is it any more important than my conversation?"

Ianto opened his mouth to respond but Owen said, "Lyle's right, Ianto. Wait a minute."

Ianto looked from one to the other, but eventually receded. He took several steps back to give them the illusion of privacy. He reminded himself that just because he didn't belong in the hospital, it didn't mean he had to step on the toes of the other patients. Once Ianto found a way out, he wouldn't have to think about this place again. These patients didn't have that kind of luxury.

He watched Lyle's and Owen's body language. Lyle seemed a bit agitated, but Owen was making calming gestures. Ianto was fascinated. Owen was always so brash, so rude, and so damn blunt that it was amazing to watch the tenderness on his expression, the gentleness in his hand as he grabbed Lyle's shoulder. Ianto shifted his gaze to Lyle and a touch of sympathy emerged. Whittier was a beautiful place, but at its core it was still a mental institution that housed mentally ill patients. They weren't just trapped behind brick walls; a lot of them were trapped within their own minds.

Ianto knew better than anyone how being trapped within one's own mind could cause others harm. The first time Ianto had realized that something was a bit off about his mother, he had been seven years old, horrified as she picked up a knife and stabbed the neighbor's cat, uncaring that her child had been watching her. That was when Ianto had started to fear his own mother, a fear that had grown to full-blown terror just a year later.

So lost in his own memories, he was startled by Owen's sudden appearance in front of him. "So," he said, "what did you want to talk about?"

Ianto shook the memories away and concentrated on Owen. "I know how to prove I'm right."

"Really? Did you tell Dr. Yates?"

"Yates is a quack. He knows things he shouldn't." Ianto lifted a hand. "Can I have your wrist?"

Owen eyed his hand warily. "Why?"

"I just want to check something."

"What?"

Ianto clenched his jaw. "Just something."

"Ianto, what do you want to do?"

Ianto released an exasperated breath. Owen may be acting gentle and sweet, but he was still stubborn. Absurdly, that gave Ianto a bit of comfort. "Your pulse. Can I check your pulse?"

Owen looked surprised and carefully slid out one hand from his pocket to hand it to him. Ianto grabbed his hand and placed two fingers on Owen's wrist, throwing him a triumphant smile—a smile that abruptly drained when he felt a pulse. An actual beating pulse. Shocked, Ianto pulled his fingers back before pressing them down again. It was still there, the steady thumping. Ianto dropped Owen's hand and stared at him bewilderedly. "That's impossible," Ianto whispered.

"What's not possible?"

Ianto blinked and pressed his hand against Owen's chest. He could feel something beating there, something that had the fixed rhythm of a live heartbeat. "This can't be."

"Ianto, what's going on?"

"You're dead." Ianto stepped back, eyeing him widely. "You're a walking zombie. You shouldn't have any kind of a heartbeat!"

Owen frowned, but then his confusion cleared. "You had me killed in an earlier episode, right?"

Ianto had been so sure that Owen's undead status would prove he wasn't crazy, and now his plan was bursting into flames. "You're dead," he repeated faintly, even though repeating it was a moot point. He just wasn't sure what else to say.

Owen spread his arms wide, allowing Ianto to examine him. "I'm alive and well, Ianto." He lowered his arms. "You decided to kill me in one of your episodes after I said that you couldn't be taken off your medication just yet."

Nothing made sense. Ianto crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his body in order to hug himself and find comfort in his own arms. He was shaken by Owen's proof of life. He thought frantically for another explanation, something other than him being crazy, and when an explanation did finally present itself, Ianto was relieved to have figured it out. "You're not Owen." He dropped his arms to his sides and stood tall. "You're something else."

Owen cocked his head. "Do you honestly think that?" He sounded amused.

"A shape shifter, an alien wearing Owen's skin, or _something_." With Owen labeled as the enemy, Ianto transferred most of his suspicions from Yates to the being standing in front of him. "What did you do to Owen?" Even though the medic couldn't be killed, his fragility left him vulnerable. One slice across the neck, and Owen would become the headless zombie, forever forced to walk around with his head in his hands.

"I'm Owen, Ianto."

"No, you're not." Then he remembered how he had left Tosh with Owen earlier. "What did you do to Tosh?" he demanded, fearing for her safety now that he knew what Owen was.

"I didn't do anything. She's safe in her room—Ianto!"

Ianto ignored him, quickly running back into the building. He came to a stop in the lounge area, realizing that he had no idea where Tosh's room was. Owen was dangerous, an impersonator of the alien kind, and he was worried that he had harmed her.

He saw Glyn pass by and Ianto grabbed his arm. "Where's Tosh's room?"

Glyn looked at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Ianto was far from _fine_, but the last thing he wanted was Glyn holding him back and asking pesky questions. He had enough of that with Yates, and Ianto needed to make sure Tosh was okay. "Where is she?"

"Second floor, first corridor to your left, third door to your right."

Ianto took off, taking the stairs two at a time. He followed Glyn's directions, going so fast that he skidded past Tosh's room before realizing he passed it. The door was open, and when he burst inside he found Tosh on her bed, lying on her stomach and reading a book.

Tosh blinked at him is surprise. "Did you go on a run or something?" She sat up, giving him a puzzled look.

Ianto waved a hand, wordlessly telling her to give him a minute as he breathed heavily from exertion. He felt more than a little relieved seeing Tosh safe and seemingly unharmed.

He walked further into her room, looking around as he continued to catch his breath. Tosh's room was beautifully decorated. There were posters on the walls, a rug on the ground, piles of books stacked in one corner, and a couple of Japanese fans. It was livelier than his room, making it look homier. The room said that its occupant had accepted her place in the hospital, that she considered it temporarily home.

When he finally got his breath back, he asked, "Are you okay?"

Tosh looked even more puzzled. "The last time I checked, yes."

"Owen didn't hurt you?"

She looked genuinely shocked by his question. "He would never hurt me. What makes you think he would?"

"Because he isn't Owen." Ianto sat on her bed next to her. "Listen, Owen—our Owen—is dead. I mean, he isn't buried underground, he's still walking and talking and thinking, but he has no pulse, he doesn't have the ability to breathe—he's a zombie. Our Owen is a zombie and this Owen who works here and portrays himself as a doctor isn't him." Tosh stared at him for one long moment before she burst out laughing. She slapped a hand over her mouth and nearly fell off the bed. Ianto scowled, feeling just a bit hurt at how freely she laughed at him. "It's true," he insisted.

Tosh managed to get herself together and looked at him with twinkling eyes that continued to shine with mirth. "Owen isn't a zombie. There's no such thing as zombies." Her eyes flicked over his shoulder before they returned to him. "Let me guess. You think Owen is an alien in disguise?"

"I don't think, I know." He grabbed Tosh's knee, squeezing it. "I know what I'm talking about. We were all there to see it when he died, and then he was brought back to life but it went wrong somehow and now he's a zombie and the Owen who is working here has a pulse. Our Owen doesn't."

Tosh didn't believe him, still grinning at him and looking like she wanted to laugh again. Bugger, what would it take for him to convince her of the truth?

Her eyes flickered over his shoulder once more, and this time Ianto followed her line of sight. He saw nothing except a colorful poster of what looked like Tokyo Tower. He frowned and looked at Tosh. "What do you keep looking at?"

"Hallucination." Tosh answered his question so calmly, it was like he had asked for the weather and she responded with grey clouds and a chance of showers.

Ianto looked over his shoulder again. "You're not really seeing anything, are you?"

"Yep. Woman with curly, light brown skin, but she has this metal gauntlet on her hand. Calls herself Suzie."

Ianto stilled. "Suzie?"

"Yeah. Suzie Costello."

Ianto stared back at Tosh. "And you really see her?"

"She just started hanging around, kept claiming that she could bring back the dead. The first time I saw her I thought she was real, until one of the nurses walked right pass her without noticing her." Tosh shrugged and leaned back against the wall at the head of her bed. "Kind of annoying, actually."

Ianto closed his eyes. "Suzie Costello is dead."

"No, Ianto, she's a hallucina—"

"No, I mean, she really was alive, but she died over a year ago. She died twice, actually."

"Ianto, Suzie is my hallucination. That's it."

First Owen turned out to be an impersonator, and now Tosh thought she was seeing a dead colleague. Ianto was starting to feel more than a little aggravated that things weren't going his way. "What were those pills you took earlier? Do you know?"

She looked a bit confused by the switch in topic, but she shrugged. "Just some antipsychotic medications. Don't know what they're called, though."

"They might be causing you to hallucinate," he murmured mostly to himself, but Tosh heard him.

"They're reducing my hallucinations, not causing them."

"How do you know?"

"Because before I started taking them I didn't know the difference between what was real and what wasn't."

"Or maybe those pills are the reason why you can't remember who you really are." Ianto grabbed her shoulders. "How long have you been taking them?" Ianto had only woken up last night, but he wondered if the time between him chasing the Chyla and waking up in the hospital was longer than he had first thought. What if it had been days? What if while he had remained unconscious, Tosh had been given pills on a daily basis to help her forget who she really was?

"Since I first arrived."

"Which was when?"

Tosh scrunched up her face in thought. "Over three years ago. I was committed here in June of two-thousand-and-five by my family."

Ianto should have expected that kind of an answer. He had really been asking for a clearer answer of when she had been brought to the hospital by the alien, but obviously he wasn't going to get that kind of an answer from her.

"Tosh, I want you to stop taking the medication, okay? I think it's messing with your mind."

"Ianto, you're starting to sound paranoid."

"I'm not being paranoid—"

"Listen to yourself," Tosh interrupted. All signs of amusement were gone. She watched him with serious brown eyes, looking very sure of herself, and Ianto was reminded of the Tosh he knew, the Torchwood operative who was so sure of her technology. Tosh was insecure about a lot of things, namely Owen, but she was aware of her computer talents and spoke with certainty and confidence whenever she had to explain a piece of tech that no one else understood. "You think Owen's a zombie, you swear my medication is messing with me—that sounds like paranoia to me." She placed her hands on his shoulder, keeping eye contact with him. "Think very carefully, Ianto. Couldn't your suspicions be nothing more than the paranoia stemming from your schizophrenia?"

"I don't have schizophrenia." Ianto jerked away from her and glared. "I know what I'm talking about."

"Sure you do, which is why you're in a mental institution accusing our doctor of being a zombie and using mind alternating drugs on me." Tosh sighed and waved a hand in the air, gesturing towards him. "I've seen you like this before, when you get all paranoid. This is what happens when you stop taking your medications. You think everyone is out to get you." She grabbed his hand and took it in between her own. "You're safe here. No one is trying to hurt either one of us. They're just trying to help us get better."

With the way she was speaking to him, it sounded like she was trying to soothe a frightened child, which annoyed him. "We don't need to get better," Ianto gritted out. "We're _fine_."

"Then explain to me why you think Owen is a zombie or why I'm taking pills that are trying to hurt me."

"Because I know what's real and what's not, and this isn't real." If Ianto lacked maturity, he would have included the word 'obviously' into the sentence. Jack probably would have.

"Are you sure?" Tosh persisted. "Do you notice how everyone is telling you this is real, and you're the only one who says that it isn't?" Tosh hesitated before quietly saying, "Don't you remember your mother?"

Ianto's heart stopped. "You know nothing about my mother."

"You told me how her schizophrenia gave her paranoid delusions. You told me how she thought the world was out to get her, how she killed your neighbor's cat, how she almost—"

"That's enough!" Ianto pulled away from her, climbing off the bed and walking a few steps away to stare at the wall so he could calm himself down. There was a child's drawing taped to the wall, one that displayed a blue-colored house and a shining sun. There were three stick figures, and in the bottom were Japanese characters. Ianto understood enough Japanese to know that the Japanese writing translated to 'Mother, Big Sister, and me.' It must have been drawn by Tosh's younger brother. She rarely spoke of her family, but whenever she did mention them her voice was always infused with warmth.

"Ianto—"

"I said that's enough." His voice was sharp and the words were final. The only person who knew about his mother was Jack. Even his Torchwood files were altered, stating that his mother had died due to natural causes in a normal hospital. None of his files indicated that his mother had a mental disorder. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or ashamed by his mother's illness, he just didn't want anyone to ask him questions. Thinking of her always brought up bad memories.

"_She tried to kill me," Ianto said, sitting across from Tosh. "She thought I was the devil."_

"_Did she hurt you?" Tosh asked quietly, bundled up in her blanket. Ianto wanted to be bundled up with her. He felt so alone in this place, and Tosh was the only one who seemed to understand him. He wanted to be held, to be comforted, and he didn't care by who._

"_Almost. She grabbed a knife and chased me around the kitchen. I was screaming and crying, and my dad finally saved me. Wrestled the knife away from her. He sent me to my room. When I woke up the next day, she wasn't there anymore."_

Ianto grabbed the sides of his head, shaking it. Another vision, another glimpse of an event that he knew hadn't occurred. But how did Tosh know about his mother? Who else had told her except him? The alien couldn't possibly have told her (it wouldn't have known about his mother's situation or his past trauma even with extensive spying), and Jack certainly wouldn't have betrayed him by telling others his secrets.

He felt a sliver of a doubt that was so strong he struggled to get rid of it. Did he really understand the situation? How did Tosh know something so personal? Even as these questions emerged, another question, one that was startling and unnerving, presented itself: what if his purpose for staying at the hospital really was because of a mental illness?

"Enough of this," he muttered, forcing the doubt away. He knew who he was, knew what was real, and all of this wasn't real. He was a Torchwood operative, and that was that. He turned back to Tosh. "Do you know where Jack is?"

The concern on her face quickly transformed into distaste. "You asked me that earlier."

"I know." He remembered her volatile reaction, but if Tosh's words were affecting him this way, creating doubts when he shouldn't have any, then he knew he needed to find Jack. Ianto couldn't afford to have doubts if he had any chance of figuring all this out, and having Jack at his side, or even having the knowledge that Jack was outside the hospital and was working on a game plan, would ground him and keep the doubts away. He would risk Tosh's anger if it meant getting some kind of an idea of Jack's location. "But you didn't give me a concrete answer." Ianto decided to reword his question. "Is he here in this hospital? Is he a patient?"

"Of course he isn't." Tosh looked angry for a moment before understanding dawned. "Well of course you don't remember, do you?" She shook her head and lightly tapped her forehead. "Sorry, every time his name is mentioned I get so angry and I forget."

Ianto's lips tugged downward. "What did he do to you that make you so angry at him?"

"He didn't do anything to me. What infuriates me is what he did to you."

What could Jack have possibly done to earn Tosh's loathing? He wanted to ask, but it would probably sidetrack the conversation, and a tiny part of him really didn't want to know what Jack's crime was, not when it was bad enough to make Tosh furious at the mere mention of his name. "If he's not here, where is he?"

"He's out there, Ianto. In London. He's not institutionalized." She hesitated again before adding, "He's the one who put you here."

Ianto felt the blood drain from his face. "He wouldn't."

"He did."

That made no sense. He inhaled sharply. It was possible that Tosh's words were a lie fed by the alien, a lie that she believed was true. Either way, Jack's absence from the hospital meant he was out in the world. That was good, and Ianto fiercely concentrated on that rather than on the idea that Jack had willingly put him in a mental institution.

Maybe the alien hadn't been able to kidnap Jack. But why say he was in London? Ianto dismissed the question for another time. Everything was screwed up anyway; it wouldn't make any difference where they thought Jack was, so long as Jack was working on a way to take them home. The only problem Ianto saw was that Jack might take a few days to find them. Even if they were in the same city, there was no way to let Jack know where he was, and without giving him a clue of his whereabouts, Jack would have to spend more time looking.

Ianto squirmed at the idea of spending more time in the hospital, but he would do what needed to be done. As of that moment, having Jack find them was a better solution than Ianto escaping and leaving his friends behind.

"Is that why you hate him?" Ianto suddenly asked. "Because you think he put me here?"

"No." Tosh tightened her lips, her eyes thoughtful. "I think it best that I don't tell you. The last couple of times I told you, you became a tad emotional. You'll figure it out in your own time."

* * *

><p>Ianto continued his efforts to convince Tosh that Owen was an alien, but that only seemed to convince her even more that he was suffering from paranoia. She had almost gone to Owen to let the doctor know, but Ianto managed to persuade her to keep quiet about it after falsely admitting that she was right about his paranoia and he would never bring it up again.<p>

He went to his room that night feeling more than a little disappointed. The disappointment quickly morphed into uneasiness when the door was locked behind him. He had learned earlier in the day that all patients were to return to their rooms by ten, and that all the doors locked automatically. It seemed a little too close to a prison system, and Ianto had to breathe carefully as he settled into bed. The last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack and get sedated again.

His uneasiness began to seep away as he lightly dozed, the lack of sleep from the previous night making it easier for him to succumb to his exhaustion, but he jumped when he heard a loud scream. He scrambled out of bed and pressed his ear against the door. The door was thick, but even through the thick metallic material he could hear the screaming, which was quickly joined by shouts.

He itched to know what was going on, but there was no way of finding out. Ianto returned to bed, and after several seconds of hearing the screams and shouts, he placed his pillow over his head to block them out. Ianto could only assume that a patient was acting out of control and the staff was trying to control him or her, but despite the logic it didn't assure him and the uneasiness from earlier returned, stronger than before. He curled into his body, squeezing his eyes shut as he was reminded of his mother's screams, the wild look in her eyes as she glared at him, desperately trying to make the shape of the cross with her fingers while orderlies struggled to control her.

It took a long time before the screams were no longer ringing in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Ianto did his best to avoid Owen, but the doctor tracked him down within the next couple of days. He soon found himself in Owen's office, forced to have a session after he was threatened with the straitjacket again. Ianto wondered if that was a common threat around here to keep the patients in line.

Ianto kept his lips curved in a deep scowl, letting the doctor know that he wasn't pleased about where he was.

"Still think I'm an alien?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you're the reason why I'm here to begin with."

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why would you believe a reality where I'm dead? Why would you believe in a world that has violence, aliens, and all these nonexistent things?"

"Because it's real. I've seen it with my own eyes." Ianto studied Owen's outward appearance, looking for some mark or abnormality that would prove Ianto's suspicious of the doctor's origins. "I know for a fact that you're not Owen." Since he was alone in Owen's office, he might as well make use of it and ask his own set of questions. Offensive was the best defense, after all. "What's your plan? What's your reason for putting me here?"

"I didn't put you here."

"Oh, right, Jack put me here. Are you the one who told Tosh that? Because it's a crappy lie. Jack doesn't have the authority to put me in here. He isn't family."

The look Owen gave him was far from flattering. "Are you listening to yourself, Ianto?"

Ianto ignored his question. "What are you? Shape shifter? Skin-wearer? Robot? What?"

"Human." Owen was studying him. "What makes you think Jack isn't family?"

"Because he isn't."

Jack was his . . . Okay, before the fight Ianto would have called him his lover, but Ianto supposed the proper term was ex-lover. Either way, unless he had two doctors agreeing that he needed psychiatric help that could only be given in a mental hospital, Jack couldn't put him in a mental hospital.

Well, unless he used his Torchwood credentials, but Ianto doubted it since everyone kept telling him Torchwood wasn't real.

"He's my boss," Ianto added for good measure. "And the last I checked, bosses couldn't commit their employees into a mental hospital"

"It's interesting that you label him your boss when you and he hold hands and snog to the point of nearly having sex out in public."

Ianto shifted, uncomfortable. "Fucking doesn't make him family." As far as retorts go, that was pretty lame, but it was all he had.

"It seemed more than just sex. The last _I_ checked, fucking didn't include gazing into each other's eyes and saying 'I love you.'"

"We never said I love you." Ianto would definitely remember Jack declaring his love for him, if only because it would probably cause Ianto to die of shock.

"I heard it myself. I've never seen two people love each other as much as you two do. You're quite the affectionate pair."

_Ianto loved kissing him. He always tasted like baby blue, soft and sunny, with just a dash of red. Jack always teased him about giving colors a taste, but Ianto knew if people could taste colors, baby blue and red were what Jack's kisses tasted like. It made him breathless, and heat always pooled low in his belly. _

_He didn't want the kissing to end, but he needed to breathe. He pulled back and sighed at Jack's lingering taste before smiling._

_ Jack smiled in return, indulgent. "How are you doing today?" The blue ring of color in his eyes was nearly gone due to the dilation of his pupils, and the way they focused on him made Ianto melt like chocolate. It was a smooth and delicious feeling. _

_"Better." He leaned forward to brush his nose against Jack's. "I'm ready to go home, don't you think?"_

_Jack pressed their foreheads together. "Ianto."_

_His name was spoken softly, but Ianto could hear the hint of warning. "Jack." _

_Ianto knew Jack caught the plea in the single word. He closed his eyes. "Don't get off your medications."_

_Ianto bit his lip. "I want to go home."_

_"You can't, not if you continue to relapse."_

_Ianto was ready, he knew he was. He was so much better now, he didn't need his meds anymore. He'd show Jack that he was ready, and everything would go back to the way it was._

Hands trembling, Ianto stuffed them between his thighs to hide them from Owen's sharp observational skills.

"You okay?" Owen asked, looking concerned.

"Yes, of course."

"You sure? You seem a bit distressed."

"I'm fine." He wasn't, not really. That had been his most vivid vision yet, and stirred something inside of him. It was almost like he was reliving a memory, images and words that were so fresh in his mind it had the power to evoke emotions.

He knew none of the visions were real, but he wished he knew where the visions were coming from. Was it the alien's doing? Were they somehow tampering with his memories? He didn't know of any aliens who could do that, and he kind of considered himself to be strong enough to sense when someone was playing his memories.

Owen's sharp gaze was still on him and Ianto felt like the bastard was trying to bypass his defenses so he could see what was really going on inside of Ianto. "This recent relapse is different from the one you had before. It seems stronger somehow, affecting you more deeply than the others had." Owen paused, expression thoughtful. "Did something happen in your recent episode that hadn't happened before?"

"Like what, Jack dressing in women's clothing?" That really wouldn't count, since a bit of role-playing had ended up with Jack in a mini-skirt and bra.

But his words had the desired effect. Owen rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Did something occur that would have a great impact on you? Emotionally, mentally, or physically?" Ianto barely held back a flinch, thinking about his fight with Jack. Owen caught it. "Something did happen. Tell me."

"No."

Even if the man sitting across from him wasn't an imposter, Owen was the last person Ianto would go to in order to discuss his issues with Jack. In fact, there really was no one he could go to for advice or a willing ear. What could he say? That he had caught his lover jerking off in the shower, which should have been a turn-on if not for his lover crying out a colleague's name before and during climax? No matter how he phrased it, it was too humiliating a thing to reveal.

Ianto was used to hearing and sharing fantasies with Jack, but it had hurt to hear Gwen's name falling from Jack's lips. It hurt more than he had thought possible. He had always accepted Jack's free loving ways, his ability to easily fall in love with so many people at once. He accepted it because at the end of the day, Jack crawled into _his_ bed.

Yet Jack's feelings for Gwen were an issue Ianto couldn't shake. He wasn't stupid; he knew that he wasn't Jack's first choice and that he was more of a consolation prize. Most of the time, Ianto had managed to convince himself that it was okay. He had a lot to offer and Jack must feel something for him if he chose him as a lover instead of hitting the pubs to have one-night stands with strangers.

But Jack crying out Gwen's name amidst an orgasm? Not something Ianto had ever wanted to see or hear. It had been a blow to his emotions and his ego, especially after enduring nearly three days of Jack pouting over Gwen being away on her honeymoon. Something inside of him had snapped, and emotions he had suppressed concerning their odd love triangle had rushed out as Ianto confronted him. Jack had denied jerking off to Gwen, but after realizing that he had been caught red-handed, Jack's denial had quickly morphed into excuses that having fantasies didn't hurt anyone.

Certainly Jack having a sexual fantasy of Gwen had bothered him, but it had been Jack's inability—or unwillingness—to comprehend how upset Ianto was about it that had turned their argument into a messy and nasty row with emotions running high on both sides and insulting shouts being exchanged. It had turned Jack's bunker into a battleground, especially when the focus of their fight shifted from Jack's fantasy of Gwen to his and Ianto's relationship in general. The argument had abruptly ended only after Jack had lashed out with the most vindictive and cruelest words ever.

"It might help," Owen suggested after minutes of silence went by.

Ianto took a moment to collect himself before responding. He didn't want to give anything away. "I'm not going to discuss my personal life with you, okay?" Damn it, his voice was gruff. That pretty much said that his emotions weren't as under control as he wanted Owen to believe. He cleared his throat. "It's none of your business." There, nice and steady.

Owen placed his clipboard aside and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "All right, then, let's discuss Torchwood."

"I'm not talking about that either."

"Why is Torchwood so important than you? One would think that you'd prefer this life."

"One would—Are you crazy?" Ianto scoffed. "Why would anyone choose a life where they are in a mental hospital and labeled as schizophrenic? Word to the wise, I'd choose hostile aliens and dick bosses over this life any day."

"You're too focused on where you're staying and your mental illness to see that this life isn't so bad. In fact, in some ways it's better."

Ianto smiled sweetly. "I highly doubt that."

"I know you don't believe me, but the best solution to your problems isn't Torchwood. The solution is to accept that Torchwood isn't real." Owen sighed. "Yates and I share notes about you all the time and he said that he thinks the best way for you to be rid of your Torchwood delusions once and for all is to give up the access codes. I happen to agree with him."

Fuzzy pieces of the incomplete puzzle were starting to become clearer as they slot into place. Owen wanted the access codes. Yates may or may not be involved, but it was clear that the alien wearing Owen's face was after the codes.

"So that's your elaborate plan, is it? Kidnap me and my friends and put us here so you can mess with my mind and make me think that I'm crazy so I can give up the codes." Disgusted and angry, Ianto slowly stood up. Owen stood up as well, wary and watchful. Maybe he was afraid that Ianto would attack him. He should be, because Ianto was sorely tempted to. "I'm not exactly sure how you or Yates found out about the codes, but I'm telling you right now that you're not getting them. I promised I would take them to my grave."

"And that's why Torchwood continues to have such a strong hold over you. The codes are holding you back, preventing you from getting better."

"Nothing is holding me back," he snapped.

"So long as you keep the codes a secret, your mind will continue to let you believe that Torchwood is real. It keeps it alive for you, Ianto."

"I'll never tell you the codes." The alien would have to beat it out of him.

Owen made a face, unimpressed by Ianto's declaration. "I never said you needed to tell _me_."

Ianto frowned. "What?"

For some reason, that made Owen smile. "I said that I agree with Yates about the codes. Never did I say that you needed to tell me. If you think I'm an alien out to get your codes, fine, don't give them to me. Give them to Yates. You can even give them to Tosh if that makes you more comfortable. Hell, you can even tell them to a stranger, a bird, or a flower. It doesn't matter who or what you give them to because the issue lies not in you keeping them a secret from a particular person, but in you keeping them a secret at all. All we want you to do is say them out loud."

Ianto wasn't interested in understanding Owen's explanation. He _really _wasn't interested. "What the bloody hell would that do?" He was a little interested then.

Apparently, Owen no longer deemed him a threat. He sat back down. "You feel that giving up the codes would put Torchwood in danger, right? You're afraid to make Torchwood vulnerable to enemies, but that's only because you think there's something there to protect. You know what that means?"

"I'm just anxious to know," Ianto muttered sarcastically. He thought about sitting down as well, but standing gave him a distinct advantage. Owen had no choice but to look up at him.

"Fear is holding you back. It's a very powerful emotion, very effective, and you need to be brave enough to say the codes without letting fear cloud your actions. If you say them, the codes and your Torchwood delusions will no longer have power over you. Any delusions connected to Torchwood have less of a chance of returning and that will benefit you in the long run."

Throughout his speech, Ianto had remained silent and allowed Owen to have his say. When he was done, there was only one acceptable response for Ianto to give: "Fuck you."

And that was the end of their session.

* * *

><p>Ianto decided that a call to Jack was in order. He would have done it earlier, but the bloody rules didn't allow him much leeway. He couldn't call when he wanted to and the phone sat at a nurse's station, which was never left empty. Ianto didn't want anyone overhearing his conversation.<p>

Now that he knew that the access codes were the ultimate goal of this elaborate ploy, he couldn't afford to hold off calling Jack any longer.

Ianto approached the nurse's station, smiling at the pretty nurse working there as he picked up the phone and dialed Jack's number by memory. The nurse would be able to hear every word so Ianto would have to speak using hints and subtlety.

He drummed his fingers on the surface of the nurse's desk as he waited for Jack to pick up, but there was no answer. It went to an automated voicemail, which was odd because Jack tended to have the stupidest outgoing voicemail messages for his phone. He once boasted about having the biggest penis on earth and asked callers to leave dirty messages, with Jack saying that he might be inclined to give the caller with the dirtiest message the ride of their life (Ianto had changed it at one point, deciding that Jack needed a more professional voicemail, but Jack had changed it again by adding Ianto's name and saying that the dirtiest message would earn the caller a threesome).

Ianto tried a couple of more times to reach Jack, but his continued attempts were also unsuccessful and he growled in frustration. He hanged up the phone and glanced around the lounge and he tried to figure out what to do. There was a young man, no older than twenty, pacing near a corner with his hands waving frantically in the air as he spoke in some foreign language. Ianto wouldn't say he knew every single language in existence, but he was certain whatever the young man was saying was nothing more gibberish, a mishmash of words that made absolutely no sense. He looked . . . well, crazy, and Ianto felt just a little bit guilty for thinking that way.

He sighed and decided try Jack's number one more time. It went straight to voicemail again, but this time he left a message to let Jack know about his location and to insist he hurry. When he hanged up, he considered the phone for a moment before picking it up again and dialing Gwen's number. She might be a bit disgruntled for having her honeymoon cut short, but she did say to call her in case of emergencies. This was definitely an emergency.

"Hello?"

Ianto sighed in relief when he heard Gwen's voice. "Gwen! It's me, Ianto."

Ianto had expected a quick reaction, either one of joy as Gwen babbled about the beauty of the Eiffel Tower and tastiness of authentic French bread, or one of worry as she asked what was going on. Hell, a tiny part of him had even expected an annoyed reaction, with her demanding to know why they were interrupting her honeymoon. Even with her orders to call her if they needed her, Ianto doubted any woman liked having her honeymoon interrupted.

Instead, all he got was a pause, followed by a cautious and what seemed to be a very uncertain response. "Yes?"

That was a bit weird, enough to make him frown, but Ianto didn't allow the oddness of her answer deter him. "I know I'm interrupting your honeymoon and everything, but I need help."

There was another pause, this one lasting a tad longer than the first. When she did speak, Gwen sounded incredulous. "Is this some joke?"

"What? No." Puzzled by her question, he wondered if she really was upset at his intrusion. "You know I wouldn't call you if I didn't need you, but I'm in a mental institution, an alien is portraying himself as Owen, and I there may or may not be another alien involved. I can't find Jack anywhere and the alien messed with Tosh's mind. She's here with me but she doesn't remember who she is and she thinks she has hallucinations. I'm in someplace called Whittier Psychiatric Hospital near Stannley Woods and I need you to come get me."

There was no immediate assurance that Gwen was on her way, and Ianto didn't hear Rhys complaining in the background about leaving France. All he got was silence.

"Gwen?" Ianto ventured. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes." The answer was surprisingly curt. "And I have no idea why you are calling me."

It wasn't what Ianto expected to hear. Maybe Gwen realized that she and Rhys deserved an uninterrupted honeymoon since Torchwood had already messed up her wedding. Ianto felt awful, but he was desperate. He'd pay for a second honeymoon after they dealt with the alien. "I'm sorry, Gwen, I know how much you wanted to enjoy your honeymoon—"

"How did you get this number?"

What? He took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. He glanced up, catching the curious eye of the nurse. Ianto knew she had heard every word, and he abruptly realized that no matter what came out of his mouth the staff would believe it to be an extension of his delusions. He could say whatever he wanted and get away with it.

As mean as it sounded, there did seem to be some perks to being seen as crazy.

He shifted a little so he wouldn't look at her, concentrating on his conversation with Gwen. He pressed the phone back to his ear. "I've always had your number." Everyone had each other's phone number programmed into their phones, it was standard procedure. Ianto had taken it a step further and memorized everyone's number just in case he was unable to look it up in the address book on his phone, although Jack's number had always been the easiest to remember.

There was a sharp gasp. When Gwen spoke again, her words were slightly shaky. "What do you want?"

Ianto's brows furrowed, growing more confused by the second. "I told you, I'm stuck in a mental institution. I don't know how I got here, but I need your help."

Gwen quietly said, "Is this your way of punishing me?"

"Punish—"

"Or are you testing me? Because if you are, I swear I haven't spoken to Jack in over a year so just leave me alone, okay?"

"Gwen—"

"Don't call me again."

Ianto's ear was soon filled with the dead air. He called back, but his call went straight to voicemail. He slowly returned the phone to its cradle, confused. The conversation made no sense. Why would Gwen say she hadn't spoken to Jack in over a year? Ianto had been right there sharing a table with Jack while he offered Gwen retcon so she could forget the travesty that was her wedding. That had been about five days ago.

Did the alien get to Gwen also? If so, why hadn't it put her in the institution along with him and Tosh? Maybe it had decided to affect Gwen's memory long-distance, but what kind of an alien had that kind of power?

_Gwen held out a hand in front of her. It shook. "Please, Ianto, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Her eyes were wide with terror._

_Ianto's hand quivered around the hilt of the knife. He wasn't going to hurt her with it, that had never been the plan, but it feltt good to see how afraid she was of him. Maybe she regretted it now; maybe she understood how much she had hurt him. The bitch. Ianto had never hated someone as much as he hated her._

_"It's your fault, you know?" Ianto tightened his hold on the knife, but he didn't move closer. He kept the coffee table between them. "My life was great, but then you walked in and ruined everything. Why do you get to be happy? Why do you get to get away without consequences? Why do I have to suffer?"_

_"I'm sorry," she repeated. She visibly swallowed. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."_

_"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't. That's why you came here, right? Because you didn't mean to hurt me." Ianto heard the squeal of tires, the loud slam of a car door closing. A quick succession of footsteps followed before he heard keys jingle. "And here comes your hero."_

"No," Ianto whispered furiously, shaking the last tendrils of the vision out of his head as he made his way back to his room.

He had never—he would _never—_ threaten Gwen. Despite Jack wanting to fuck her, Ianto would never stoop so low as to threaten her and he certainly wouldn't get any kind of satisfaction in threatening her. They were friends, and Ianto knew he could depend on her for practically anything.

But there was no denying the hatred the vision had evoked inside of him. He could still taste the thrill of seeing fear in Gwen's eyes.

It wasn't real, he knew it had never happened, but no amount of reassurances erased the sweet bliss of seeing Gwen afraid of him.

Was that how it had been for his mother when she had tried to kill him? Satisfied to see the 'devil' afraid of her?

His mother had had wisps of darkness in her eyes when she had tried to kill him. Ianto had seen it even though at the time he hadn't understood what it was that had been lurking in them. He had always been afraid that that darkness was lurking inside of him, waiting to come out and make him harm people he called friends and family.

The last thing he wanted was to have any kind of image that had him potentially traumatizing a close friend the same way his mother had traumatized him.

His hands were still shaking and he clenched them in an effort to stop the frantic movements.

He bypassed Glyn. "Everything okay?" The male orderly looked concerned.

Ianto nodded his head, but then he shook it. He wasn't confused, but he was certainly agitated. He just wasn't sure what was going on. He wanted to say he wasn't delusional, but if he kept getting flashes in the form of events that never happened, what did that mean? It had to be the alien forcing him to see things that didn't happen. That was the only explanation he could think of.

"I just called Gwen," he confessed.

"Gwen Cooper?"

Ianto nodded. At this point, he wasn't surprised to know that Glyn knew about him and his friends. Glyn seemed to be invested in the patients and probably knew everyone's life story. Well, the life story that the alien had created.

Glyn looked surprised and just a bit troubled. "Why did you call her?"

"Because she's a friend, and I thought she could help me."

"Ianto," he said slowly, "Gwen Cooper has never been your friend. I don't know how you managed to call her, but the few times you mention her name you usually sound resentful. Hateful, even."

"But I don't—" Ianto sighed. What was the point of arguing? No one would believe him anyway. "Should I bother asking why she isn't my friend?" No one seemed inclined to answer his questions about Gwen and when Glyn shifted uncomfortably, Ianto already had his answer. He settled for a different kind of question. "She said a few things when I talked to her. Why would she think I'm punishing or testing her? And why doesn't she want me to contact her?" He needed to know so he could figure out a way to get Gwen to talk to him in case she needed saving also.

"Like I said, you hate her."

"Hating her wouldn't justify her not wanting me to contact her, nor would it justify her accusation that I'm trying to punish her. If anything, hating her would give _me_ the incentive to not contact _her_, not the other way around, and right now I don't understand why she wouldn't want to talk to me."

A tiny voice whispered that a traumatized Gwen would never want to hear from the man who threatened her with a knife. Ianto tried to shut that voice up.

"Glyn," Ianto prodded when Glyn hesitated too long to answer the question.

The orderly sighed and shuffled closer. Glyn placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder, a surprisingly comforting gesture. "You threatened Gwen a couple of times with a knife. Your last attempt, in particular, had been a very near thing."

Ianto hadn't wanted Glyn's answer to support the vision he had, and he certainly hadn't wanted to hear that he had threatened Gwen more than once. He had wanted another explanation, something that wasn't as damning as what he had seen himself do.

Ianto sucked in a deep breath. Feigning ignorance, he asked, "And did I hurt her or did someone stop me?" Gwen was alive and the vision insinuated that someone intervened, but if his last attempt had been, as Glyn described it, a near thing, he was worried the alien had implanted memories that made her believe that he had physically harmed her. If so, it would make it difficult to get her to talk and listen to him.

The orderly's eyes shifted. "Someone stopped you before you could do anything each time."

"Who?"

"It's been suggested that we let you remember yourself," Glyn said after several moments passed by. "You don't handle it well when we let you know certain the details of your life."

Tosh had said the same thing and it was starting to irritate him. What could be so bad that everyone deemed it dangerous to tell him?

"Why aren't I in prison then? If I threatened her, tried to kill her, why aren't I in prison?" Glyn's eyes flickered over his face, as if trying to decide if it would be a wise decision to tell him. Ianto couldn't keep the exasperation out of his words even if he wanted to. "I don't think I'd get violent if I'm told why I'm not stuck behind bars with hundreds of other inmates."

Glyn seemed to see the logic in his reasoning, thank god. "It was decided that a psychiatric hospital would be a better place for you due to your schizophrenia."

There was more to the story, Ianto knew it. Nothing was ever that simple, especially if he threatened Gwen. At the very least she would have pressed charges.

Even as he stood there, sure that the alien had planned all this, he couldn't help notice that plan was fairly elaborate. Maybe even _too_ elaborate. Tampering with everyone's memories, impersonating Owen, putting him in a mental hospital, and going so far as to affect Gwen as she honeymooned in a different country.

The codes were important and aliens might just do about anything to get their hands on them, but to tamper with everyone's memories? Impersonate Owen and plant Ianto and Tosh in a mental hospital? Going so far as to affect Gwen as she honeymooned in a different country? And what about Rhys? Had he been affected too or simply removed from the equation? It seemed too big of a job for one or even two aliens to complete.

Ianto racked his brain, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any aliens that specialized in wiping away or distorting memories. Even more puzzling, he couldn't figure out why he had been targeted rather than Jack. Even if the aliens had discovered that Ianto knew the codes, Jack would make a more appealing target.

To the outside world, Ianto barely beeped on the radar. He was at the bottom of the Torchwood ladder. Almost everyone else had seniority over him and despite the fact that Gwen joined the team after he did, her rank was higher than his. Ianto was just the Archivist, the general support, and a fieldwork operative. Then there was Jack, the leader of the team. His knowledge of Torchwood and anything extraterrestrial was pretty vast. Jack was a prime target.

The flicker of doubt returned, that same flicker that pointed out the many unanswered questions in relation to Ianto's theory of alien involvement—questions that wouldn't be a problem if Torchwood was a delusion.

"Ianto?"

Realizing that he was getting lost inside his own head, he smiled at Glyn. "I think I'll go to my room now."

He turned and left the lounge. As he reached his door, a loud shout from behind him made him spin around. The woman who slept in the room across his own was standing in her doorway. Her hair was really wild, untamed, and she was peering at him with a wide smile. Ianto was usually quick to look away whenever the woman looked at him, too disturbed by her manic expression, but something about her smile struck him as familiar.

He paid closer attention to her, concentrating on her features. Some of her curls rested across her forehead and over her eyes, somewhat obscuring them, but he felt as though he had seen her before.

"Ianto," she said. "Is it pizza time?"

Ianto felt the blood drain off his face. No fucking way. "Annie?"

Dear god, it was _Annie_, the pizza girl who had delivered pizzas to Torchwood, the same girl whose body Lisa had stolen. But Annie was dead. Lisa had killed her when she had taken her body and right before his very eyes her body had been pummeled with bullets.

How was it possible that Annie was now standing in front of him and smiling like she didn't have a care in the world?

"Ianto, do you want these pizzas or not?"

Ianto slowly shook his head. "No, thank you." His voice was hoarse and he quickly entered his room, closing the door behind him. He couldn't lock it from the inside, but it didn't matter. As least it kept Annie away from him.

He rubbed his face, his breath shuddering. Annie's face had haunted him for months after the Lisa incident. It had been especially difficult to handle her death in his nightmares when his subconscious would blend Annie, Lisa, and a Cyberman into one being. He still couldn't forgive himself for causing her death and he doubted he ever will, but he had learned to live with the guilt. He had accepted it as part of his penance to always remember his role in her death.

Yet somehow there was a woman living across from him with the same face, the same voice, and asking him about pizzas. On the verge of hysteria, he absurdly wondered if she remembered his regular request for a pepperoni pizza.

Maybe she wasn't back the dead. Maybe the person wearing Annie's face was another impersonator. Owen was already being impersonated, so why not another? That was perfectly plausible—except that no alien could have uncovered the link between him and Annie. Torchwood had covered up her death extensively well and as far as anyone knew she had died in a tragic accident.

On the off chance that an alien had managed to figure it out, Lisa's death would have been discovered as well and certainly Lisa would have been a much better candidate to impersonate, or resurrect back from the dead. He didn't know any aliens who could resurrect the dead, though.

He groaned. It just didn't make sense. Just as he thought he had everything figured out, something else pops up that scatters the pieces of the puzzle even more. He couldn't be crazy. Torchwood wasn't a creation of delusions and his memories of it were real.

Right?

Ianto's breathing became erratic and he forced himself to take deep steady breaths before he truly did begin to hyperventilate. As he was doing so, he spied his sketchbook sitting on the seat of his chair of his desk. He hadn't touched the sketchbook since the day before last, when Glyn had first handed it to him.

He crawled towards the chair and grabbed the sketchbook. He began to go through the pages slowly, taking his time to study each drawing rather than frantically flick through the pages like before. He realized that the drawings weren't just of aliens, but of people and scenery as well. They were richly detailed, life-like, and exquisite. Ianto hadn't been a bad artist, but anything he had produced had never been as good as the drawings found in the sketchbook. Maybe with some schooling he could have learned the techniques needed to create such gorgeous drawings, but he lacked the skills to produce any of this work.

Some of the drawings definitely matched images from his Torchwood memories, but other drawings seemed more connected to this life. He found drawings of Glyn, Yates, and even an accurate rendition of the view of the gardens from his window. He found a signature and dates at the bottom corner of all the drawings, and he recognized the signature as his own, the same one he used to sign checks or documents. Looking at the dates, he realized that first drawing had been completed just a little over a year ago. The last completed drawing had been last week.

Either aliens had monitored him really closely or . . . Ianto swallowed. Or no alien was involved.

Ianto didn't want to be in the institution anymore. He felt utterly alone here and no one understood his situation. Everyone thought he was crazy, and the one person who might still be able to help was MIA. He missed the Hub, missed Myfanwy's screeching and the way the Hub's machinery hummed. He missed Owen sniping about his inability to drink coffee anymore and how oblivious Tosh could be whenever she was focusing on a piece of technology. He missed how Gwen harped about Rhys's snoring and, god help him, he even missed Jack. Cocky, impertinent, uncompromising, stubborn, thoughtless, and fucking _ignorant_ Jack.

Ianto wanted to go home, curl under the covers of his own bed, and wake up tomorrow morning ready to work at Torchwood. Was that really too much to ask?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Are you okay?"

Ianto really wished everyone would stop asking him that. When Yates had asked during breakfast, Ianto had muttered that he mind his own business. When Owen had asked on his way to lunch, Ianto had told him to go screw himself. When Glyn had asked when they had passed by each other in the gardens, Ianto had given him a fake smile and said that he had never felt better.

But because it was Tosh asking now, Ianto found himself lifting his head off his pillow to look at her. "Not really, no." Even now, with Tosh not knowing who she was, it was easy to be honest with her than with others. Jack was the only other person Ianto opened up to.

Jack. Just thinking about the man depressed him. He had fallen into a state of misery in the last twenty-four hours, unwilling to leave his room except for breakfast and lunch, and he had done his best to avoid Annie all day. The only time he had left his room to do something other than eat was to see if he could access the third floor to find out if Jack was there or not, part of him hoping that Tosh had been misinformed about Jack's location, but it was so heavily protected it was like having a prison right above the first two floors. Limited access, orderlies in every corner, twice the number of security cameras. As skilled as he was, even Ianto knew he wouldn't be able to sneak onto the third floor undetected. If Jack was there, Ianto couldn't help him. For now, at least.

Ianto hated playing the role of the lone brave soldier. He had tried that with Lisa and had failed spectacularly, and having Annie living across the hall only served to remind him of that. At least this time, if everything went to hell, it wouldn't be his fault.

Tosh walked further into the room. "What's wrong?"

A lot of things. He was in a mental institution, one of his doctor's was an alien, the other doctor might be working with the alien, his teammate thought she was hallucinating a dead teammate, another teammate told him never to call him again, and he s_till_ had absolutely no idea where Jack was.

Ianto sighed, and decided to give the least stressful reason. "I called Gwen."

Tosh stopped in the middle of the room, body going stiff. "You did?"

Ianto rolled over and pushed himself into a sitting position. He crossed his legs. "I just wanted to see if she can help me."

"And what did she say?" Her tone was tight, disapproval evident. Ianto wasn't too surprised by that.

"She said not to call her again."

Tosh relaxed. She closed the distance and climbing on top of the bed so she could sit across from him. "I told you not to call her."

"Yes, and Glyn told me that I hate her. The only problem is that no one has told me why." Ianto arched a brow at her. "So what happens if you tell me about my supposed issues with Gwen?" Tosh tightened her lips, looking slightly mutinous. Ianto resisted the urge to scowl in annoyance. Getting answers to simple questions shouldn't be so difficult, but it was like pulling teeth with Glyn and Tosh. "You can at least tell me that."

Tosh huffed, obviously peeved, but she gave in. "The last time I told you, you had a meltdown. You didn't believe me and was so desperate to get out of here that you had to be sedated. Owen and Dr. Yates told me that if you relapsed again and couldn't remember who you are, I should let you retrieve your memories on your own so you don't react too badly like you did before."

That totally didn't clear anything up for him and from the way Tosh was watching him, it wasn't about to get any clearer than that. "Why do I hate her? I'm the one that threatened her life—more than once, apparently. She would have more reason to hate me."

Tosh mulled over the question before shrugging. "She played a role in you being here. I mean, she didn't physically put you here, but she's partially responsible."

"But why? Because I threatened her?"

"Because of what she did."

Ianto was starting to suspect that Tosh was purposely talking to him in riddles. He didn't like it, nor did he like how the answers he was getting were only confusing him more. "But Gwen is my friend. What did she do that was so horrible that it made me want to threaten her?"

"Believe me, Ianto," Tosh said with a sniff, "she isn't your friend."

"What would you know?" he muttered. "You still think you belong in here."

"As if!" Offended, Tosh glowered at him. "I don't want to be in this hospital any more than you do, but unlike some people I know," she said, giving him a pointed look, "I don't go around accusing the doctors of being aliens or that creatures live in the sewer, or that a stupid code of numbers will threaten a nonexistent organization."

Ianto's head jerked up. "You know about the codes?"

"You tell me a lot. You don't hold back."

Yes, but Jack had told him to never tell anyone about the codes, Tosh included. "And let me guess, you think I should give up the codes."

"Well, yeah." Her answer was slightly condescending, as if his question had been dumb.

"I can't do that, Tosh. Giving anyone the codes will risk the safety of Torchwood and its operatives. It could cause devastation on earth if an enemy managed to get its hands on Torchwood's mainframe."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Ianto."

Ianto gritted his teeth at the nonchalant way Tosh tossed aside his warnings. If Tosh had been herself, she would have understood his refusal to utter the codes.

"I told you once before, once I'm out of here I want you out there with me." Tosh lifted her right hand. "I'm right here. Very close to leaving." She lifted her left hand, but kept it beneath her right with a few feet of space between them. She wriggled her fingers. "This is where you're at." She wiggled the fingers of her right hand. "But I want you up here, with me. If giving up the access codes is the only way to get you to forget about Torchwood and bring you up here with me, then I'm not going to go against the idea."

Ianto fell back on his bed, unwilling to rehash old arguments about Torchwood's existence. He had tried in the last three days to convince Tosh of the truth and she was too damn stubborn to believe him.

Silence reigned for several seconds, and Ianto's thoughts eventually returned to Annie. He wondered if Tosh knew anything about her. "The woman who lives across from me, how long has she been here?"

"Who? Annie?" Tosh looked thoughtful for a moment. "She came a few weeks after you arrived. She's not violent, but she's a bit weird. I think it's the hair. Makes her look crazy."

"Do you know anything about her?"

"Just whatever you've told me." Tosh stretched out one of her hands in front of her and examined her fingers. "She's _your_ neighbor."

"And if you recall, I can't remember much about this life."

Tosh huffed at Ianto's mild form of sarcasm. "She was committed for schizophrenia. She doesn't seem to have delusions, just hears voices in her head. She thinks she's a delivery girl for a pizza place, though."

There were obvious connections between his memories of his actual life and the events that were occurring right now, but the connection that came about in the form of Annie made his stomach churn. The memory of Annie would always be entangled with the final moments of Lisa's life, of her last words telling him that they could be upgraded together.

And Ianto suddenly wondered if Lisa was around in the institution. He hadn't seen her among the patients, and Ianto was sure he would have recognized her no matter how she looked like, but maybe she was on the third floor.

"Have I ever mentioned someone named Lisa?" His heart pounded, unsure how to feel at the prospect of seeing Lisa again, even if she was an alien walking around with Lisa's face.

"Yep." Tosh stretched her arms up in the air, her back popping. "She exists in your episodes."

"So there's no Lisa here in the hospital?"

"I'm sure there are a couple of Lisas, but definitely not the one you made up. She might exist in your life outside the hospital." Tosh frowned, dropping her arms. "You've never mentioned a Lisa except for the one in your delusions, though."

So Lisa didn't exist here. When his emotions settled, he realized he was relieved. Ianto wasn't sure if he could have handled another surprise such as his dead girlfriend walking down the halls of Whittier. That might have been a bit too much.

Hoping to keep his mind off both Lisa and Annie, he asked, "How was your session with Owen today?" Even though he had warned her that Owen was actually an imposter, she continued to keep her scheduled sessions. The only way Ianto could make sure he wasn't hurting her was to ask how her sessions had gone under the guise of innocent curiosity.

"Good." She grinned. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure that he's going to ask me out!"

Ianto was doubtful. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, he asked me what I'd like to do when I get out. I told him that I wouldn't mind finding a boyfriend, maybe get married. And he _smiled_ at me!"

"He always smiles at you." Technically, Owen was always smiling at everyone. It really made his skin crawl.

"This was a _smile_ smile." Tosh looked at him as though she expected him to understand what she was talking about. Ianto's mind was blank. "There was a look in his eye," she finally explained. "You know, that look that lets you know when someone's interested in you?"

This was bad. Not only was Tosh crushing on a non-real Owen, she now thought he was interested in her. Ianto now realized what Yates meant when he had said that Ianto usually told Tosh in a straightforward and blunt manner that she should let Owen go. His Tosh, the one who knew who she was, didn't fool herself the way this one did. His Tosh may have asked Owen out on a date, but she hadn't let her happiness blind her to the glaring fact that the possibility of a relationship ever developing between her and Owen was slim to none.

"Are you sure you're not seeing things that aren't there?" he asked gently.

Tosh stubbornly shook her head. "I know what I saw. He likes me, Ianto, and as soon as I'm out of here he'll ask me out."

"But wouldn't you be returning to Cardiff?"

"But how would any relationship work between you two? From the looks of it, Owen practically lives here and you told me that once you're out you might go back to London."

"It doesn't mean he can't follow me to London. And if I have to, I'll stay here, get a job or something. Maybe be a nurse. Who better to work here than a previous patient?"

A lot of people, though Ianto didn't say it out loud. He sighed. He was accustomed to using subtlety to get Tosh to see that there were other men out there for her, but this Tosh needed a more aggressive approach. "Find someone else," Ianto said shortly.

Tosh didn't look all that surprised by his straightforwardness. "Is this because you still think he's an alien?"

"No, it's because a relationship between you and Owen would be a failure. Whatever you saw probably wasn't what you think it was." He remembered Yates commenting on Owen's tendency to indulge his patients, particularly Tosh, but as far as Ianto could see, Owen's indulgence was still on the professional side. "He's your psychiatrist, and that's all he'll ever be."

"You don't know that. You don't see how he is with me when we're together."

"I've seen enough. I don't want you to become delusional—"

He knew the moment the word escaped his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. But before he could apologize or backtrack, Tosh glared at him, her face flushed rosy with anger. "Don't you dare accuse me of being delusional, Ianto Jones! You want to talk about delusional? Let's talk about you and you're stupid belief that all of this is some made up lie by aliens. Let's talk about how you think the whole damn staff is out to get you, or how you think little Miss Gwennie is your friend. Or even better! Let's talk about your delusional idea that by keeping a stupid set of codes is your way of protecting a made up organization!"

Tosh stood from the bed, boring down on him. She looked absolutely furious, and through the shame and fascination of seeing the mousy Tosh explode into this angry madwoman, Ianto had to wonder if his Tosh ever got angry like this.

"You're a hypocritical prick if you're sitting there judging me about falling for my doctor when you're the one having the delusions," she snapped.

Stung by her words, shame and fascination quickly morphed into ire. Ianto scowled and stood up as well so he could confront her face to face. "I am _not_ having delusions, damn it! I know what I'm talking about."

Tosh didn't back down, her eyes snapping fire. "No, you don't. You're mentally sick and Torchwood isn't real. It's a fake organization that exists only in your mind. You say you want to get out of here, but at the rate you're going you're going to die in this room still screaming that your delusions are real."

"They're not delusions!" He hadn't meant to shout, but the words had burst out of him as if they had been eager to be heard.

"They're delusions, Ianto," Tosh snapped. "They aren't real. It's all in your head." Tosh suddenly gave a short and bitter laugh. "You're trying so hard to convince everyone around you that this—" She used her hands to indicate the room. "—is not real, that your life as a Whittier patient is not real, that you refuse to look around and see this this _is_ your life. You belong here."

"I do not belong here," Ianto hissed.

"Yes, you do!" Tosh nearly shouted. "Damn it, you arsehole, for once in your bloody life, listen to someone other than yourself! You're schizophrenic so fucking deal with it!"

Breathing heavily, Tosh continued to glare at him fiercely. Ianto returned the glare, and they remained like that for several minutes, urging the other to listen as both refused to believe anything other than what they deemed true.

Eventually, he gave in first by closing his eyes and turning his head away. "You and everyone else keep saying that this is my life, but all I remember is a different life. I remember the smell of blood, the sound of gunfire, the touch of a gun in my hands." He spoke softly, the anger slowly seeping away as despondency took its place. He turned back to Tosh. "A life where you aren't in a mental hospital and where you're the most intelligent woman I know. You're superior when it comes to computers, and you have every right to be snobby about it but you're so modest. You're so much more than a mental patient. We're _both_ more than just mental patients. We have lives that give us meaning." His words were the truth, but they seemed to have the added bonus of cooling her indignation. "I swear, Tosh, I'm not making this up."

"Of course you're not." Tosh sighed, her anger mostly gone as she grabbed his hands. She squeezed them, a silent reassurance of her friendship. "You're sick, Ianto, but you'll get better."

It pained him to hear his friend continue to believe that Ianto was the one who needed help, but what else could he do but smile weakly and nod? He couldn't force her to listen to him, or make her believe him. He sighed, temporarily defeated. "I'm sorry for what I said. It came out wrong and it was out of line." He squeezed Tosh's hands in return, giving her his own reassurance. "I just meant that I want you to be careful and not see things that aren't there when it comes to Owen. He may not be interested in you and I don't want your hopes lifted. I don't want you to get hurt."

Tosh considered him for a moment. "I know you're finding it difficult to accept that this is reality, so I'll accept your apology." She hugged him, and Ianto took comfort from that. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate the only friend he had in the hospital. She pulled back, her face serious. "But I meant what I said. If you don't accept that this is real, you're never going to get out of here. I may not be as smart or as sane as the Tosh in your Torchwood, but I can be wise here and there, and even I can see that the best thing for you to do is to reveal the codes."

"Tosh—"

"I'm serious. You're letting a few set of numbers have a lot of power over you. Don't you think it's time you got your life back?"

Ianto grimaced. "That's what Yates said."

She smiled at him. "Look, why don't you just tell me?" She leaned a bit closer. "Whisper them, if that will make you feel better. You'll see that nothing bad is going to happen."

She was eager, but he couldn't do as she asked. The codes were crucial to Torchwood's safety, and Jack had entrusted him to keep them safe. He couldn't—_wouldn't_—betray Jack's trust again when it came to the safety of Torchwood, especially not when one of the people asking for them was an amnesiac teammate who might end up telling Owen what the codes were.

Tosh seemed to sense his reluctance. Her tone went from eager to coaxing "Go on, tell me. I want you better. If you say them to me, then maybe you'll no longer have episodes."

Ianto shook his head. "You're not authorized to know, especially if you don't even know who you are."

Tosh snorted, but she stopped pushing. "Fine. But you'll see that it's best you do give them up. Maybe once you get your memories back you'll realize it."

Not if the damn memories were false ones implanted by an alien.

They both looked towards the doorway when someone knocked on his opened door. Ianto straightened at Glyn's presence. "Yeah?"

"Someone's here to see you."

Ianto was surprised. He had a visitor? "Who?"

"Come see."

He heard Tosh mutter something under her breath. He turned and frowned down at her. She was scowling. "What?"

She waved her hand in the direction of the door. "Go on, see your visitor."

"But why are you scowling?"

"Because it's the dick who—"

"Now, Tosh—" Glyn began, but Tosh interrupted him.

"Shut up, Glyn." She flounced out of the room. Actually _flounced_. Ianto wondered if she would remember all this once everything returned to normal. She would likely be embarrassed over her actions and words.

But the resentment in her voice when she referred to Ianto's visitor could only point to two people: Jack or Gwen. Considering the fact that Gwen had told him never to contact her again, and considering Tosh's lovely choice of adjective for his visitor, Ianto doubted it was her coming to visit him, so that left Jack.

It was about bloody time the bastard found him.

He willingly followed Glyn out of the building and into the gardens. Ianto glanced around, trying to spot his visitor. He looked out for anyone in a RAF coat, but frowned when he couldn't spot anyone wearing it.

"Ianto!"

He turned at the sound of Jack's voice, eyes moving frantically around, but he couldn't spy Jack anywhere. He saw other patients, the orderlies, a man with glasses, a doctor—

Wait. Go back.

His eyes returned to the man in glasses, and his jaw literally fell when he realized who it was. "Jack?"

It looked like Jack—sort of. He had glasses on and his hair was longer than usual, curling around his ears. He lacked the RAF coat he was fond of and instead of the old-fashioned ensemble he usually wore, he had an ordinary buttoned down black shirt, grey jeans, and black trainers. No braces, no blue shirt, no black trousers, no boots. He looked so . . . ordinary. He hadn't looked like that in the vision Ianto had the day before. Had he? The vision had been quick, though, so maybe Ianto hadn't noticed.

Well, he was certainly noticing now.

Jack grinned wide and closed the distance between them, wrapping Ianto in his arms and hugging him tightly before giving him a peck on the lips. Ianto was so gobsmacked that all he could do was stand there and take it all in as he stared at the man whose blue eyes twinkled with joy and—love?

Jack's grin faltered when Ianto continued to stare at him, not returning his greeting. "You okay?"

Ianto shook himself out his state of shock. He gave him a smile, although he wondered if it even looked like one. "Yes, I'm okay." Ianto smile became a little more genuine. "I'm just happy you're here. I've been calling you for the past couple of days."

"Yeah, I know. I lost my phone and by the time I found it, it was dead. I didn't have time to charge it enough to call you before I hopped on the plane to come here."

Jack sounded so calm, so put together. It was a contrast to how frazzled Ianto had been feeling for the past few days. Still, relief was pouring in at Jack's arrival. "I've been stuck here wondering where the hell you've been." Ianto tugged at his robe. "I don't know if you know anything, but Tosh thinks she's a patient here and an alien is impersonating Owen."

"Alien?" Confusion appeared in Jack's eyes.

Ianto nodded. "I called Gwen but she—"

"You called Gwen?" Jack interrupted, now looking a bit startled.

"Yes, but something weird is going on with her. When I called her she said that she hasn't spoken to you in over a year and then told me never to call her again, and everyone keeps saying I threatened her but you know as well as I do that I would never do something like that." The words rushed out of his mouth, and he had to pause as he ran out of steam. He took a breath. "Jack, everyone here thinks I have schizophrenia. You need to get me out of here."

Jack was looking at him oddly before he glanced at Glyn, who stepped forward and calmly reported, "He relapsed. Torchwood."

Three words, but it was obvious that it was enough of an explanation for Jack. His expression went from confused and lost to an unusual combination of understanding and disappointment, which made Ianto a bit nervous, although he didn't know why. "Jack, we need a game plan."

Jack glanced at him, but he turned his attention to Glyn. "When did he have it?"

"About four days ago. It was only a matter of time, since he got off his meds."

Jack grimaced. "I should've come sooner to talk to him."

During the short exchange between Jack and Glyn, Ianto's stomach had clenched until it was nothing more than a tight ball of nerves, heavy and difficult to ignore. That certainly wasn't how he had expected Jack's arrival to occur. Half of him had actually expected Jack to burst into the hospital and conduct a dramatic rescue, using the opportunity to show off his heroic tendencies. And now here Jack was, dressed like a normal person and talking about Ianto's 'relapse' as if it was a common thing.

He grabbed Jack's arms, forcing the man to look at him. "You're getting me out of here, right, Jack?"

Jack smiled, the curve amazingly loving. "I can't."

His breath caught just a little. "An alien put me here and that same alien is impersonating Owen." Jack's eyes flashed. Was that pity he had just seen in Jack's eyes? "Jack, please tell me you're here to get me out so we can save Tosh and find the real Owen."

Jack placed his hands on Ianto's hips, squeezing lightly. "I'm here to visit you, Ianto, not to get you out."

"But—" Ianto bit his lip as Jack's words implied what Ianto didn't want to believe. This couldn't be happening. "Not you, too."

Ianto had been depending on Jack to help him come up with a plan to save the others. More than that, Ianto had desperately wanted to have at least one person who believed him and not look at him like he was crazy when he spoke about Torchwood.

He watched Jack's face closely for a hint or a sign that Jack was only pretending in order to avoid detection from the alien. They knew each other's signals, knew how to phrase certain things or portray certain looks to send subtle messages that they didn't want enemies to decipher. He looked for anything that told him that Jack knew exactly who he was and was merely working undercover.

There was nothing.

Jack turned to Glyn. "Give us some privacy."

Glyn nodded and left them alone. Jack stepped back and took Ianto's arm, guiding him to the concrete bench he had been sitting on earlier. Feeling a bit numb, Ianto allowed himself to be led. Ianto suspected that Jack hadn't wanted privacy in order to talk about escape plans.

As they sat, Jack ran his hand down Ianto's arm until he reached his hand. He intertwined their fingers together, an action that took Ianto by surprise. He blinked at their conjoined hands. Rarely did they hold hands in public, mostly because of Ianto's reserved nature.

Jack used his thumb to rub a knuckle. "I've missed you."

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he muttered.

"Not exactly what I wanted to hear in response to my words."

Ianto ignored him. Despite everyone else's memories being taken and replaced, somehow Ianto hadn't expected Jack's memories to be gone also, probably because Ianto hadn't wanted to even consider the possibility that Jack, his last remaining ally, would be just as ineffective and unhelpful as everyone else. Having reached out to the others for help only to fail, Jack had been his last hope.

Ianto had to make Jack remember. "Listen, you're the leader of Torchwood Three. I'm your employee. I work for you. Something is going on and I'm stuck here."

Jack continued to move his thumb over his knuckle. Ianto wondered if it was supposed to be a soothing gesture. "What do you know about this life?"

Ianto clenched his jaw. "Why?"

"Because you're obviously confused and I want to make things clear."

He found himself resisting the urge to punch Jack. Maybe that would jolt the bastard's memory. "If this is your way of punishing me because of the fight we had, then you're crueler than I thought."

Jack knew about his mother's schizophrenia, knew how his mother nearly tried to kill him. If anyone could understand his desire to never set foot in a mental institution or his fear of becoming mentally ill himself, it was Jack. It would be cruel of the older man to pretend that everything happening around him was real just for the sake of punishing Ianto for their nasty argument.

But Jack merely frowned. "What argument?"

"You know, the one where you called me delusional and childish? The one where you said that we should end our 'fling'? Ring any bells?"

_"If you can't handle my way of life, Ianto, then screw this fling. You were never worth more than a good fuck anyway."_

Anyone could argue that things were said in the heat of the moment, but they usually had a grain of truth in them. He was in love with Jack, maybe even loved him more than he had loved Lisa, and to be belittled by him? To be insulted and labeled as nothing more than a convenient sex partner who couldn't offer more? Ianto's heart had shattered to millions of tiny pieces.

Ianto wasn't sure what would have happened after Jack had said those words—with Ianto walking out or Jack asking for forgiveness—if the rift alarm hadn't gone off seconds after Jack's devastating words. Ianto had hid behind his professionalism and proceeded to check the rift coordinates and Jack, perhaps following his cue, had contacted Owen and Tosh before they had gone out to capture the Chyla.

Part of him wished that he had kept his mouth shut, but another part of him was glad he had let everything out in the open. Ianto no longer had to pretend that he was okay with Jack disrespecting his feelings and, as painful as it was, he now knew what Jack truly thought of their relationship, but that still left a lot of things unresolved. He wasn't sure if there was anything that could be salvaged between them or where their relationship stood.

Taking in Jack's bewildered expression, he wasn't going to get answers anytime soon. The man sitting next to him obviously had no clue what he was talking about.

"I'm sorry, Ianto," Jack eventually said. "I've never considered what we had a fling. I would never say that to you."

"But you did," Ianto said miserably. Running a hand through his hair, he was reminded of what Tosh had told him. "Did you really put me in here?"

"I had to. Your delusions were getting worse. I had no choice."

"But I'm not having delusions." Jack was his last shot at freedom. He had to convince him that he wasn't crazy. "They're my real memories. I've lived through each and every one of them, I swear. Torchwood is my life. I don't know how, but an alien put me here and somehow erased your memories." He grabbed Jack's other hand. "Don't you remember four nights ago? We were chasing after the Chyla."

"Four nights ago I was at home, correcting papers."

"No, you were—" He frowned. "Correcting papers?"

Jack nodded. "I'm a professor of astronomy."

"Professor of astronomy," Ianto repeated. "Seriously?" Ianto couldn't see Jack as a professor of anything. The teaching profession seemed too restrictive for someone like Jack, who liked doing whatever he wanted without following the rules of others. That was why there was a lot of friction between Jack and UNIT. The government organization wanted Jack to follow their rules and orders, especially after Torchwood One's downfall, but Jack wasn't about to let go of his rank as leader of Torchwood Three, nor was he going to follow anyone else's orders unless they came directly from Her Majesty. "No, you're Captain Jack Harkness. You're my boss, leader of Torchwood. You protect the earth, you traveled through time—you're most definitely _not_ a bloody professor."

"Calm down," Jack said.

Ianto scowled. "Don't patronize me!" He yanked his hands away. This was just bloody frustrating. Instead of the dashing hero, what did he get? An amnesiac Jack who thought himself a professor of astronomy.

"I'm not patronizing you." Jack grabbed his hand again, ignoring his tugs. "I just don't want you to get overexcited. I didn't come here only to have you sedated during my visit."

Ianto frowned and glanced around, spotting Glyn who was watching them from a distance. Jack's point had merit. Patients were constantly being watched and any form of privacy was more of an illusion than an actual fact. Ianto forced himself to take a calming breath, taking in the scent of flowers, but he couldn't quite relax. His body was still tensed, humming with agitation.

"Ianto," Jack murmured. "I can assure you, I'm not a captain of anything. I don't lead Torchwood and I'm not your boss."

"Yes, you are." Ianto scrambled for something that could serve as a trigger for Jack's memories. "You're immortal. You've lived in Cardiff for the past century, and you've traveled across the universe."

Jack sighed. "Ianto—"

"The Doctor," Ianto blurted. "Remember him? You're practically in love with him, you've traveled with him, and you'll do anything for him."

"Doctor who?"

Ianto stared at him for a moment before slumping. The Doctor was perhaps one of the most important people in Jack's life, if not _the_ most important. Even though the Doctor had once been labeled Torchwood's number one enemy, and despite the Doctor's decision to abandon an immortal Jack on a satellite, Jack still trusted and loved the Doctor. If Jack couldn't remember his Doctor, then Ianto had little hope of jostling his memory of anything else.

"I suppose next you'll tell me that we're boyfriends," he complained.

"Of course not."

Well, that was insulting. Jack sounded mildly annoyed by Ianto's chosen label, and Ianto glowered at him. It looked like Jack's disdain for labels had managed to remain intact even with the memory loss. "You don't have to sound so damn—"

"We're more than that. We're married."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for not posting yesterday. A personal issue prevented me from doing so, but I hope this chapter makes up for the delay. And thanks for all your reviews!

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><p>Chapter Five<p>

"We're _what_?" Ianto gaped, incredulous. "Did you just say we're _married_?"

Jack sighed and turned on the bench, straddling it so they could be face to face. Jack never once let go of his hand. "We've been married for three and a half years."

"But how? They don't perform same-sex marriages in the U.K." Unless the alien was way more powerful than Ianto had anticipated and had managed to somehow change the laws.

"You were twenty-one and I was thirty-three when we went to Canada. At the time it was the only country that allowed same-sex marriage without requiring us to be citizens." He shrugged a shoulder. "The U.K. doesn't recognize our marriage so we still had to eventually enter a civil partnership, but we call each other spouse or husband anyway. I don't consider what we have to be anything less than a marriage."

Ianto sputtered, words coming out in fractured sentences and syllables before he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, realizing that it was perfectly plausible for someone to die of shock. They were married. Him, Ianto Jones, married. To Jack! He thought his heart was going to beat right out of his chest with the way it was racing, smacking against his chest so hard his muscles were probably bruised.

He glanced down at his left hand. No ring there. He brought his hand up closer, and while there was no obvious mark of a ring band, there was a faint discoloration of skin there. It was so faint that the only way for him to see it was by looking for it. He glanced at Jack's left hand, and there was the glint of gold metal surrounding his ring finger. Ianto hadn't noticed it before.

_"Now you're mine," Ianto proclaimed, fingering the gold band around Jack's finger._

_Jack chuckled as Ianto played with his hand, running his right hand down Ianto's bare back. Ianto shivered, shifting closer to Jack's side as their legs tangled together. His body was still tingling from their first sexual experience as husband and husband. It had been different, knowing that the man he had been making love to would be the last and only man to ever make love to him. _

_"I've been yours since we first went out," _

_"I was nineteen and you were thirty-one, how could you have possibly been mine at that age?" Ianto tilted his head. "Actually, one would wonder how you could be mine at this age."_

_"Age is just a number. If anyone has to worry about anything, it's me." Jack rolled on top of him. "Who's to say that you won't leave me someday when I'm fifty and bald and some younger man or woman catches your eye?"_

_"You're not going to go bald." Ianto grabbed Jack's face in between his hands and drew him down for a deep kiss. "You're too damn vain to let yourself go bald."_

_ Jack chuckled, but didn't disagree with Ianto's words. "You know this right of ownership runs both ways, right?" Jack nuzzled their noses together. "I'm not letting you go even if I somehow manage to lose the fight against baldness."_

_Ianto smiled and kissed him again, more happy than he had ever been in his life. _

"This is absurd," Ianto whispered, feeling the happiness from the memory wash over him. Absurd? No, that word wasn't enough to describe it. It was ridiculous. Preposterous! "How can we be married?" His Jack would have balked at the idea of making any kind of commitment, let alone getting married. Marriage meant settling down and Jack didn't settle down for anyone.

"I know you don't remember, but it's true." Jack smiled, the skin crinkling at the edges of his eyes. His face looked softer than usual, and Ianto realized that the shadows that usually accompanied Jack's eyes weren't there. "You were a student at the university I worked at. I asked you out and after a bit of persuasion you agreed. We dated, keeping it a secret from the university, and we fell in love. Soon after you graduated, we got married."

"I would never date a professor of a university I attended, and I most certainly am not married."

Ianto wasn't sure what kind of game the alien was playing at by handing him this kind of a life. Was the alien mocking him by using the marriage ploy? Or maybe it was an odd version of torture to make Jack think he was living a life that involved the things he feared most. The latter made more sense than the former. After all, what a commitment-phobe such as Jack would fear most was marriage, and nothing was scarier than being married to someone who was in a mental institution.

Jack huffed slightly and released Ianto's hand in order to take Ianto's face between his own hands, drawing him close for a kiss. Ianto made a startled sound, but even in this twisted reality Ianto couldn't help but respond to it. Jack still tasted the same, still used his tongue to make him melt. It was achingly familiar, and for one moment he allowed himself to pretend that everything was normal, that Jack knew exactly who he was.

"I'm not crazy," he whispered when Jack released him. Jack used a thumb to rub at Ianto's bottom lip. That, too, was familiar. "I'm not."

"No one said you were."

"You think so. You put me in here." And then Ianto resisted the urge to slap himself upside the head. Jack wasn't the one who had put him in the hospital, the alien had.

Jack sighed, oblivious to Ianto's train of thoughts. "Not because you're crazy. You're just not in the right frame of mind sometimes. I mean, you don't even remember our lives together, do you? And I'm not talking about the made up one in your Torchwood," Jack added before Ianto could answer. "I'm talking about our lives here, in the real world. How we live in a nice house together in London, have been thinking about adoption, and how I teach while you sell your paintings—"

"Paintings?" Ianto interrupted. He carefully ignored the implied domesticity that Jack thought they shared.

Jack nodded. "You're an artist. A successful one, actually. It made such a ruckus when I had to put you in an institution, but your paintings in the gallery sold out fast."

Then the drawings in his sketchbook weren't the extent of his talents. Despite himself, he felt just a bit proud. He had wanted to be an artist when he had been younger, until common sense had told him that being an artist wasn't a lucrative career.

Common sense was obviously overrated since it had also told him to work for Torchwood.

"I'm famous?"

"You haven't reached Monet status, but you're pretty popular in the art world, and at your age it's quite an accomplishment." Jack cupped his cheek. "Your art is your passion. Not Torchwood."

"But—"

"Believe me when I say that you have a good life waiting for you outside these walls." The words were wrapped in tenderness. "I cook, you clean. We have a dog that yaps at everything in sight. You love chocolate and I hate it, so I give you chocolate for your birthday and you give me fruit for mine. Your idea of a fun time is to go out and party—which drives me nuts sometimes because I like to stay home and read a good book." A mischievous twinkle entered Jack's eye. "And you love it when I fuck you slow in the missionary position. Nothing beats that position or that pace, you told me, so we do it that way more often than any other way."

Ianto lowered his gaze, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Some of those little details were true: the chocolate, his favorite position to have sex in. But other things weren't, such as going out and partying. Ianto liked the occasional outing, but he was usually content with the neighborhood pub.

"I would never call what we have a fling, Ianto," Jack continued. "Having a fling would imply that I never took the time to get to know you, to fall in love with you." Ianto lifted his gaze, startled to hear that kind of proclamation from Jack's lips. "And I love you so very much."

Ianto's heart sped up. Damn it. He knew Jack wasn't all there at the moment, but to hear those words said so boldly satisfied something inside him, a piece of him that had been left woefully neglected by Jack. And the way Jack was looking at him right now, with love shining so brightly out of his blue eyes. Love and devotion. For _him_.

Even if it wasn't real, it made him so fucking happy.

Ianto swallowed and pulled away from the hand on his cheek. He couldn't take that kind of information right now. He needed to concentrate on keeping what was real and what was false separate, and words like that tempted him to blur the lines. So instead of acknowledging it, he changed the subject to something less intense. "What else don't I know about this life?" Maybe Ianto would be able to find something useful in Jack's tall-tales.

But Jack had other plans. "You're my world, Ianto. Always have been. Even when you were nineteen, you were everything I ever wanted and I didn't stop pursuing you until you gave into me."

Ianto closed his eyes. His heart couldn't tell the difference between reality and fiction—or didn't much care—because it continued to pound in his chest. "This isn't real, Jack. Whatever memories you have, none of it is real." He tried to gather his wits and once again attempted to change the subject, this time to the situation at hand. "They want me to give up Torchwood's access codes." He hoped that the potential danger would kick-start Jack's memory. "They want me to tell someone. That's the alien's ultimate goal. I just don't know how it managed to do all this, and the whole damn place is secure. I can't get out. Please." The word was desperate as he tried just one more time to reach Jack, _his _Jack. "Please, I need you to remember who you are because I can't figure this out on my own. I can't."

Jack's jaw clenched, noting the desperation on Ianto's face. "I wish these delusions wouldn't affect you so much."

And that was that. Jack wasn't going to remember. Ianto was on his own, and he had no idea how he was going to get out of this. He needed help from someone, but anyone who could help him was somehow under the alien's influence, trapped in a web of lies. He couldn't do this by himself. He didn't want to do this by himself. He didn't even know where to start.

Jack hugged him, and Ianto was distressed enough to accept it and return it. He breathed in a familiar scent. "Fifty-first century pheromones," he murmured.

Jack chuckled. "Just my aftershave, sweetheart." Jack kissed the side of his neck. "Ianto, you said you called Gwen. Why?"

Ianto pulled back, but he was morose enough to stay within the circle of Jack's arms. "Because I thought she'd help me." Ianto frowned slightly. "But instead I find out that she doesn't want me calling her at all because I threatened her."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Glyn told me, but he said that someone stopped me before I could actually hurt her. Was it Rhys?" He paused, considering the question. "Do you know who Rhys is?"

"The only Rhys I know is the Rhys you mention in your delusions."

"Bloody brilliant," Ianto muttered.

"And it was me who stopped you." Surprised, Ianto blinked. Jack smiled weakly. "You tricked her into coming to our house the first time and when I arrived from work, you had her backed into a corner. The second time you went to her house."

Well, that was just another confirmation he didn't need. It seemed the more Ianto fought to keep his memories of Torchwood, the more this reality presented itself as the real deal. "What about what she told me? How she hasn't talked to you in over a year." Ianto cocked his head. "Why is that?"

Jack seemed reluctant to answer. "You really don't remember anything about your life here?"

Ianto shook his head. "No. The only life I know is my real life in Torchwood."

Jack muttered a curse. He inhaled sharply and looked Ianto straight in the eye. "I want you to promise me that you'll let me explain the entire story before you say anything, okay?"

Ianto was instantly cautious. That kind of promise was akin to extracting a promise of not getting angry before being given an explanation. "Why would I need to promise you that?"

"Since you don't remember your life here, then you're not going to understand the situation unless you let me explain everything." Jack smiled, but it was a bit strained, as if Jack was trying to reassure him but couldn't quite succeed in pulling it off.

That only served to tell him that he couldn't promise anything. "Go on."

Jack's smile turned grim, as if he understood that Ianto wasn't going to promise anything. "All right, then." He released Ianto, but he was quick to grab Ianto's hands, squeezing them tightly. It occurred just how often Jack tended to grab and squeeze his hands, and Ianto wondered if that was a common thing.

"We had a rough time about a year before I put you here," Jack started. "It was mostly because of your success in the art world, and my having a difficult time accepting it. You started to spend more time with your artist friends and I just didn't fit in, so I started making excuses to get out of art gatherings that you were invited to. You thought I wasn't supporting you and we began to fight. There was a lot of fighting and we began to sleep in different rooms. Then you started spending more time with a female acquaintance and I got jealous. I thought you might be sleeping with her and you accused me of not trusting you. We were just in a bad place." Jack's eyes flicked downwards. "My department hired a few people, and one of them became my assistant. She was friendly and she made me feel wanted."

Ianto knew where the story was heading, and now he understood why Jack had tried to extract that promise from him. He tugged on his hands hard, but Jack held on. Ianto tugged them forcefully until Jack let go.

Ianto clasped his hands on his hands. "I suppose she was beautiful." His voice was gruff.

"Everyone is beautiful in their own way." Jack's lips twisted in a poor attempt of a smile. "That's always been my motto." When Ianto said nothing, Jack cleared his throat. "We started an affair."

Ianto had already figured that out, but surprisingly, the words unfurled a kernel of anger. It was unusual, considering that none of it was real. Everything that came out of Jack's mouth was a fabrication, a story that came from made-up memories that had been given to him. Thinking about it that way should have been easy and provided him with some comfort, but it did neither. His heart cracked at the confession, as if Jack truly was his husband and had committed infidelity. For some unfathomable reason he felt betrayed and humiliated.

It struck Ianto as ironic that even an amnesiac Jack who loved him and was married to him hadn't been able to stay faithful, and maybe that was what was making it hard for him to take comfort from the fact that none of it actually happened. Ianto had never had security of any kind in his relationship with him, and it was hard to hear Jack confess that he cheated, even more so when it didn't take a genius to figure out how Gwen fit in to all this.

It all hit too close to home to the real fight he had with Jack in his bunker.

Jack was quiet for several moments, but when Ianto continued to remain silent he continued. "There's no excuse. I could say that I was feeling lonely, or that you were always out, or that she came on to me—I could say all of that, but it's all excuses."

"Did it last long?" He was proud at how steady the question came out, even if his tone was emotionless.

Jack looked surprised. "No." The answer was quick. "No, it didn't."

Ianto looked away, watching the people strolling through the gardens, feeling the light breeze brush against his skin. "Who ended it? You or her?"

Jack hesitated. "It was a mutual decision."

Ianto couldn't help but snort as that kernel of anger expanded, slithering throughout his body. He suspected that his frustration at being here was stirring the pot, making it difficult to remain detached. "And I suppose you two were suddenly struck with a sudden case of morality?"

"Yes," Jack said slowly. "Something like that."

_Jack had her bent over the desk, her skirt bunched up around her waist and gasps escaping her mouth as Jack thrust inside of her. Jack's eyes were closed, his face flushed with arousal and his hips moving in a fast rhythm, and Ianto was sickened by the sound of flesh slapping against flesh._

_He clenched his hands, anger and betrayal squeezing his chest so tightly he could barely breathe, and when Jack groaned, making that expression that was both blissful and painful, Ianto knew that he had just watched his husband come inside another's body._

_Jack finally opened his eyes, which widened when he saw him standing by the door. Ianto tuned and left Jack's office, dropping the take-out he had brought for Jack, his hopes of talking about their problems over their favorite Thai take-out falling as fast as the food had. He could hear his name being shouted, but that just spurred him to move faster._

_He pressed the button for the elevator, but when the doors didn't open he chose the stairs, pushing the door and running down until he reached the ground floor. His eyes were just a bit blurred, but he forced the tears back. He knew he and Jack were having some problems, but he never thought that Jack would go so far as to cheat on him. _

_When he reached his car, he fumbled for his keys. His hands were shaking so much with anger and hurt at the scene he had witnessed that he was having a difficult time isolating the key to open the car door. He ended up dropped them and he bent down to pick them up, managing to insert the key into the lock just as he heard Jack cry out his name._

_"Ianto!"_

_Ianto yanked the door open, but Jack managed to reach him before he could enter the vehicle, grabbing his arm. "Ianto, let me explain—"_

_"So this is what you've been doing?" Ianto spat, yanking his arm out of Jack's hold. "Spending late hours fucking her in your office?"_

_Jack was disheveled, with his lips swollen, his hair a mess, and his clothes out of place. He looked like a man who just had sex, and for the first time since meeting Jack, he was repulsed by him. Jack was supposed to be _his_, no one else's. _

_"It was—I was—"_

_"I don't want to hear it!" Ianto turned away. "I don't want to hear any of your excuses." He glanced back at his husband, but looked away again. "I can't bear to look at you." He attempted to enter his car, but Jack again thwarted him. _

_"Please, let's just talk," Jack begged, face flooded with guilt and shame._

_"What's there to talk about?" Ianto snapped. "You had your dick in her pussy. There's nothing else to say." And as the image ran through his mind again, anger grew to rage, spiraling down into a clenched fist that Ianto swung into Jack's jaw._

_Jack reeled back and nearly fell, but managed to find his balance. He lifted a hand to cup his wounded jaw as he looked at Ianto. "I just—"_

_"Fuck you." In his angry state, Ianto reached for his wedding band and took it off his finger before throwing it onto the ground. "If you want to continue fucking her, go ahead, but I want you to stay the hell away from me. Don't you dare come home, you fucking bastard."_

_With that, Ianto got into his car and drove off._

A sob crawled up Ianto's throat and it nearly escaped his mouth as the pain, the anger, and the utmost humiliation burned through him. There was no way he could remain detached, and in the back of his mind he wondered if this was what people with amnesia went through when they managed to recover forgotten memories, feeling every single emotion that was associated with them. The memory was so fresh and vivid he wanted to kill Jack for causing him that much pain. It hurt so damn much.

It was one thing to suspect it, it was another to hear Jack say it, but it was an entirely different thing to see it in his mind's eye, to have the image seared into his brain of the man he loved thrusting into someone else as his face twisted into agonized pleasure while cries of ecstasy mingled with someone else's. It made him sick. It didn't even matter that none of it was real because the image _felt_ real, as if he had just lived through it, and his emotions could not be contained no matter how hard he tried to pull them back.

"That's why I threatened her." He couldn't keep the shakiness out of his voice. "You were having an affair with Gwen."

Jack's eyes widened slightly. "You remember?"

"Oh, god," Ianto whispered, and he pressed a hand to his stomach. He wondered what would happen if he threw up. "You can't stay away from her, can you?" It suddenly hit him that no matter what scenario they were put in, Jack always found a way to have Gwen in his life.

"Ianto—"

He lifted a hand. "Shut up."

He lowered it as he tried to wrap his mind around what he just learned, and how it changed things. Yes, none of this was actually real. He and Jack weren't married and as far as he knew, Jack and Gwen had never slept together. But to wake up in this place and realize that Jack fucked with Gwen behind his back only served to justify Ianto's suspicions that one day Jack would give into temptation and sleep with someone else. Maybe not with Gwen in particular, but definitely with someone other than Ianto.

There were still questions that remained unanswered and he forced himself to speak through the tightness in his throat and chest. "You said I tricked her into coming into our home. How did that happen?"

Jack looked at him the same way he had looked at him after catching him with Gwen. Shame was written all over his face. "You researched and contacted a few people to find out who she was. You called her and pretended to be me, then invited her to come to the house. As soon as she arrived you held a knife at her throat, demanding answers."

"Why do I get the feeling that she came to the house thinking it was for sex?"

Jack squirmed, seemingly uncomfortable. "Because that's what you told her when you were pretending to be me. You even used an American accent. I had ended the affair as soon as you found out, but it hadn't ended for her until you threatened her."

And now the previous memory he had of threatening her made sense. Gwen had rocked his marriage, and Ianto had wanted to get back at her by giving her the fright of her life. The memory had ended with someone arriving, and Ianto referring to the arrival as her hero.

"You said that you stopped me from hurting her." He swallowed, the movement thick and difficult. "How did you know what was happening?"

"She left me a voicemail on my phone," Jack answered quietly. "She said how she was running a bit late but was only five minutes away from the house. I was confused, and called the house phone but it was disconnected. I got a bad feeling and left work early to see what was going on, and when I arrived, her car was in the driveway. So was yours. When I walked in, you said that it was a good thing I came when I did because you were seconds away from using the knife on her. I don't know if that was the truth or you were just trying to scare her even more. You kicked both of us out of the house soon after."

"And what happened the second time I threatened her?" he asked hoarsely. He found it hard to believe that he would intimidate Gwen a second time. He understood being angry enough to kill, but Ianto never really thought that he would ever reach that boiling point. Oh, he wanted to kill Jack and Gwen at that very moment, but the desire wasn't strong enough for him to actually pick up a weapon and follow through with it.

"I stopped you that time as well. You didn't hurt her, but you did a good job in convincing her to stay the hell away from me." Jack sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked worried and anxious. "Ianto, it was just sex with her. There were no emotions involved, just a few moments of forgetting the problems we were having. It was a stupid mistake, one that caused you pain and one that I swore would never happen again."

"That's rich," he sniped, "believing a cheater's word to never fuck around again." Ianto always wondered what he would do if someone he loved cheated on him, and he realized that it wasn't something anyone can prepare for. "I can't believe I forgave you. Why in the _hell_ would I forgive you?"

"Because that's when you started showing schizophrenic tendencies." Ianto glanced sharply at him, demanding an explanation. "It wasn't obvious right away, but discovering the affair tipped you over. You began to have episodes. I had been staying at a hotel for only five days when you called me asking why I hadn't returned an alien artifact to Torchwood One.

Ianto remembered that. He had been working in the archives and Hartman had requested an item that Torchwood Three had borrowed well before Ianto had started working there. With an angry Hartman breathing down his neck, he had called Torchwood Three and requested the item back. That had led to a bit of a tug-of-war game between Jack and Hartman, who had taken over the phone and had yelled at Jack for stealing the artifact.

But then another memory inserted itself, one where he was standing in a roomy kitchen making that same exact call with no Hartman anywhere around. The memory wasn't very vivid, but it was clear enough.

"I was confused and when I asked what you were talking about you hanged up. I went over and found you sitting in the corner of the kitchen." Jack reached out to touch Ianto's cheek, but Ianto turned his head away. That was a bit more intimate than he could handle at the moment. Jack swallowed, disappointed, and lowered his hand. "You were pissed at me for coming home, but when I asked about the phone call you just said that you hadn't made one. I thought it was a joke, so I left. But as days passed, people began to call me, letting me know that you were seen wandering the streets looking for an alien, or making random calls to mutual friends about alien technology."

Jack paused. "Anything sound familiar?" Ianto shook his head. Jack nodded in acceptance, although he clearly didn't like it. "You know how I said that I stopped you when you threatened Gwen the second time? It turns out that you were in the middle of a delusion." Ianto's eyes widened, twitching in shock. He was immediately reminded of his mother's attempt on his life. Had history repeated itself?

Jack watched him closely, worried. Ianto realized that he had stopped talking because of Ianto's agitated reaction. "Continue," he whispered.

Reluctant, Jack said, "For some reason, you thought she and I were getting married. You kept seeing our wedding announcement everywhere you looked, from the newspapers to billboards. From what I gathered, you arrived at her house, furious and yelling at her for stealing me away from her. She called me to help her and when I got to her house she had barricaded herself in the bathroom because you were trying to break the door down. You were using a butcher knife you took from her kitchen to try to get through the door."

Ianto paled. Although no memory accompanied the explanation, he didn't need one to let him know how horrible that must have been for everyone involved. "But I don't understand why I would see something like that."

"At the time, neither did I, but then you just seemed to snap out of it when I arrived and you . . ." Jack hesitated. "You just collapsed and started to cry. It took a bit of work to understand what you were saying, but I eventually understood that you were seeing things that weren't there and having these odd thoughts in your head. I managed to convince Gwen to reconsider her decision to press charges against and I took you home. We talked and you explained more fully about the things that were going on. Considering your mother's mental state, and after a bit of research, it didn't take us long to realize you were having delusions."

Ianto took a moment to take that in as his insides quivered. He had attempted to kill Gwen. Jack hadn't said that, but he hadn't needed to. Ianto had held a butcher knife in his hand and if he was that furious with Gwen while experiencing a delusion, then that meant he had been trying to kill her. It was a miracle Gwen hadn't had him arrested.

A shadow of fear curled around his neck, nearly choking him as it reminded him of the darkness that could potentially be inside of him. No, not potentially. If what Jack said was true, the darkness _was_ inside of him, nesting until Gwen's involvement with Jack gave it life and nearly got her killed.

"So, what, I decided to forgive you because I was going crazy?" He couldn't pull off the sarcasm as well as he had wanted to, but at least it would divert the conversation in a different direction.

"No," Jack said softly. "You didn't forgive me, but you did let me help you. I was there for you for the next few weeks when your episodes began escalate. I did everything I could to help you." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "But the delusions were getting bad and I finally realized that you needed help I couldn't give. I found you the best place. Money didn't matter."

"Distance didn't matter, either." Ianto's words were bitter.

"It did matter, but Whittier was the best and I wanted you to get help away from the hustle and bustle in London. You were too well-known there and I didn't want reporters or anyone else bothering you." Jack cautiously moved his hand to touch Ianto's, but Ianto flinched and pressed his hands in between his thighs. Rebuffed, Jack retracted his hand. "It did come at a cost. You still hadn't forgiven me about Gwen and moving you to the hospital made you hate me even more. You hated me for weeks after I brought you here, but we both saw that it was helping. Your episodes died down in frequency and you looked so much better. You looked happy."

Ianto closed his eyes. The memories of Torchwood were strong. He could look through them as he would a photo album, remembering his first days at Torchwood One right down to the heated argument he and Jack had had in his bunker. But new memories were emerging, ones that were clear and vivid. Along with those memories were sensations and feelings that were so strong, it was like he was living them—or reliving them.

Reopening his eyes, they caught the glint of the sunlight bouncing off of Jack's wedding ring. He removed his own hand from where it was tucked between his thighs to examine his own ring finger, and with a start he realized that it felt just a bit naked, like something was missing.

Perturbed, he said, "I don't know who you are." He lifted his gaze to stare at Jack directly. "I know Captain Jack Harkness. I know how he likes his coffee, what his favorite Thai food is, where the most sensitive place in his body is, which music he likes to listen to, what his favorite movie is. I know all these little things about him, but you? I know nothing."

Jack looked disappointed, but not particularly surprised. "I know," he murmured. "You didn't know anything about me the last time you relapsed, either."

Ianto wondered if he should ask someone about that, since he kept hearing about having relapsed before, but that wasn't the point about this conversation and he didn't to ask Jack specifically about it. In fact, he really just wanted to get away from him.

He stood up from the bench. "I need to think. This is a lot to take in and I just need to think."

If possible, Jack looked even more crestfallen. "Okay." He stood up as well. "I'm here for a week." He leaned in to kiss Ianto's lips, but Ianto turned his head, allowing the lips to graze his cheek. The memory of Jack fucking Gwen was still too fresh in his mind to fully accept Jack's words about forgiving him. "I'll come by tomorrow afternoon."

Ianto nodded and watched Jack walk away. Left alone, Ianto sat back down and examined his ring finger. The discoloration still amazed him. Ianto had never worn a ring there; he wasn't the kind of man to wear jewelry.

It wasn't enough to distract him from the image of Jack and Gwen together, though. Ianto had never wanted to see them like that in any fashion and now he would carry the image in his head forever.

The worst thing about it all was that it wasn't too much of a stretch to believe that Torchwood Jack would leave him for Torchwood Gwen. Just because she was married didn't mean Jack would respect those vows at a crook of her finger, and Gwen's understanding of fidelity was shaky. For Owen she had cheated on Rhys, and if Owen was worth risking a relationship over, Jack was worth it even more.

"Ianto?"

He looked up. Glyn was staring down at him worriedly. "What?"

"You all right?"

"Do I look all right?"

Glyn sat down next to him, right where Jack had sat. His bald head gleamed underneath the sun. "I saw Jack leave."

"I told him I needed to think about the things he told me."

Glyn tilted his head, studying him. "And what did he tell you?"

"That we're married, that he cheated on me with Gwen, and that he's the reason why I'm in a mental hospital." He laughed humorlessly. "Never thought I'd say any of that, especially in one sentence." He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of tiger lilies. He liked tiger lilies, but the scent from his favorite flower didn't do much to relax him. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now."

"What do you mean?"

Ianto glanced at the orderly. He wondered if he often confided in Glyn, and the itch to do so now told him that maybe he did. "Jack is a bastard no matter what world I wake up in, but that's just another layer piled on top of so many things that I'm dealing with. Torchwood is the only life I've known." He stared down at his hands, and he used the fingers of one hand to caress his ring finger on his left hand. "I'm afraid," he admitted. "I'm afraid that I really am schizophrenic and that Torchwood is something my mind came up with because—I don't know, maybe I watched too many science fiction shows or read too many stories about Martians." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid that I'm a monster just like my mother was."

"Your mother was ill, Ianto." Sympathy dripped from every word Glyn spoke.

"She became a monster the moment she pointed the knife towards me. That hasn't changed, and if what Jack said was the truth and that I tried to kill Gwen because some stupid paranoid delusion made me they she and Jack were going to get married behind my back, that makes _me_ a monster."

"But you didn't kill her."

"Fine, if you want to get technical, I'm a potential monster who hasn't crossed the line yet."

Glyn bit his lips. "Do you want me to get Dr. Yates or Dr. Harper?"

Ianto snorted and firmly shook his head. "They'll just spout the same thing they always do and I don't need to hear it. I just need a friend."

"Then I'll get Tosh—"

"No, I need someone who will listen." He looked up at Glyn, feeling a bit desperate. "Someone who will just _listen_."

And Glyn seemed to understand what he meant. Ianto didn't want to hear placating words or arguments that this life was real. He just wanted to talk to someone with an open ear and a closed mouth. Glyn nodded once, silently telling Ianto that he could trust him with whatever he needed to say.

"The last thing I want is to be a permanent resident here until the day I die. I hear screaming every night, it makes me uncomfortable when I see a patient talking to the walls, and sometimes the walls feel like they're closing in on me. I want to get out of here and go home where my skin doesn't feel tight and my mind isn't filled with all these doubts about who I am." He licked his lips, feeling the dryness on them. "I know I'm supposed to protect—" He paused and eyed Glyn, unsure if he knew about the codes and unwilling to mention them on the chance that he didn't. "Everyone keeps telling me there is a way for me to improve and be one step closer to being released from here, and I mostly don't believe them. But a tiny part of me is starting to wonder if what Yates and Owen are saying is true. If my ticket out of here is by doing what they are suggesting I do."

And he hated himself for even thinking that way, but it was hard to argue against evidence that was slowly piling up. If he were a lawyer, he'd be floundering right about now in front of the judge.

He released a shuddered breath. "When my mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia, I didn't want to associate with her. I looked at her like she was one of _them_, people who belong in a different part of society and someone separate from me." He looked around the gardens, taking in all the patients who were either walking or being pushed down the pathways in wheelchairs. "But being in here, I realized that being one of them is the loneliest feeling in the world." He looked back at Glyn. "And I don't like that feeling."

Glyn studied him for one long moment. "You're trying so hard to convince yourself that you don't belong here that you fail to see that you're not going to be here forever. This place is here to help you." He put a hand on Ianto's back, running it in soothing circles. "You keep saying it's not real, but you're not giving it a chance. Why not try to stop resisting this life so much?"

"And what will that do?"

"Help you with your confusion. Besides, there's no harm in trying, is there? Acknowledge that you're a patient here and accept the help given to you instead of focusing so hard on being a Torchwood hero who needs to save everyone. The life you have here isn't so bad."

Ianto snorted. "Not from where I'm sitting."

"That's only because you've had one too many shocks in a short amount of time. Look, all I'm saying is to give the life you have here a chance."

Glyn gave him an encouraging smile, and when a fight broke out not too far away from where they sat Glyn jumped up from the bench and ran to help break it up.

Ianto turned away from the brawl that was currently occurring between three patients, mulling over the orderly's advice. Glyn had a point. Ever since he woke up here, he had done denied the very notion of this being his life. With his Torchwood memories still intact, it only made sense for him to fight against a life he had no memory of ever having.

But now he was remembering certain events that could only have occurred in this life and Jack, his last ally, turned out to be the 'concerned love one' who put him in Whittier in the first place. His doubts were getting stronger by the hour as the burden of proof was starting to fall on Ianto's shoulders. It was getting bloody difficult to find the proof he needed to support his argument.

He returned to his room, needing something to distract himself with, but as soon as he entered his room he halted right on the threshold. Jack was in his room. Not his so-called husband Jack, but the real Jack. He stood in the middle, staring right at him with a big grin and wearing that gorgeous RAF coat.

"Thank god," Ianto breathed, and he was suddenly ashamed for having doubted Torchwood's existence. He felt like his world that had slowly been fractioning into tiny pieces was finally glued together once more. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

Jack didn't answer, just kept grinning at him.

Ianto scowled and walked further into the room, standing right in front of him. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Ianto reached out to touch him, but his eyes widened when his hand went right through Jack's body. He stared at the sight of his hand sticking through Jack's chest for a shocking moment before jerking his hand back. "What?" he whispered. He gave Jack a sweeping glance from head-to-toe before realizing that Jack wasn't moving. At all. He wasn't even breathing.

He waved his hand in front of Jack's face, but when Ianto side-stepped Jack's stare was fixed straight ahead, reminding Ianto of a statue. Any excitement Ianto had felt at the sight of him vanished as he realized that Jack wasn't really there, but his heart still fluttered with hope that Jack's appearance meant something.

He circled Jack, attempting to touch him in various places. The shoulder, back, hips, even his ass, but no matter where he touched his fingers went right through Jack's body as if the man was a ghost.

He stopped in front of Jack and stared at the corporal statue. For one glorious moment, he had thought Jack found him, but all he got was . . . He didn't even know what he got.

Was it possible that Jack was somehow transmitting a hologram? Ianto wasn't sure, but at this point he had no problem picking at straws. "Jack? If you can somehow hear me, I'm at a Whittier hospital. I'm still in Cardiff, so just look up the hospital and find me." He racked his brain for other clues, but came up short. "I don't know how I got here and I have no idea who our enemy is, but I'm pretty sure an alien is impersonating Owen and that it might be able to resurrect the dead, so look for any alien that can shape-shift and has the power to bring back the dead. It's trying to get the access codes."

"Uh, Ianto?"

Ianto glanced back, spotting Yates standing in the doorway and frowning at him. "Are you okay?"

"I told you Torchwood existed." He pointed at Jack. "See?"

Yates looked in the direction Ianto was pointing at, frowning. "There's nothing there."

"Of course there is!" Ianto waved his hand in front of Jack. "Jack is standing right in front of me."

"Your husband?"

"_Jack_," Ianto said, stressing the name. "From Torchwood."

"Ah." Understanding dawned in Yates's green eyes. "So he's come back."

Ianto stared. "What?"

"Jack from Torchwood is a hallucination."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Delusions were bad enough, and now they were saying he had hallucinations too?

"Jack from Torchwood has always been one of your hallucinations."

"This is fucking ridiculous." He pointed an accusing finger at Yates. "No, this is worse than ridiculous, this is downright bullshit. You want to know why? Because I find it rather convenient that just as Jack appears, you come to my room and tell me he's a hallucination, especially when I haven't had this so-called hallucination in all the time I've been here."

"I assume you mean in all the time you've been here since you woke up thinking you work at Torchwood." Yates sighed. "Hallucinations appear even when the patient is aware of his reality. Just ask Tosh. She knows who she is, but she sees and hears things that aren't there."

"Oh, for god's sake, don't bring Tosh into this." He turned to Jack just in time to see him begin to disappear. Ianto lurched forward to automatically grab him so he couldn't go anywhere, but he came to a stop when he remembered that he couldn't touch him. "Wait!"

Jack vanished completely, and Ianto found himself staring at the hard ground where Jack had stood. "He was here," he said firmly. He refused to believe otherwise. He was going to stick with the hologram explanation because it was the only one he had, other than the bullshit one the doctor was trying to feed him with.

"Ianto." Ianto didn't turn around, but he could hear the tapping of Yates's footsteps as he came further into the room. "Jack pops up when you're lucid. He always has. We're pretty sure he serves as a visual reminder of Torchwood whenever you snap out of your Torchwood delusions. The fact that he's appearing again makes me believe that you are starting to come out of your episode." He grasped Ianto's shoulder. "That's a good sign."

Ianto jerked away from Yates and turned around to confront him. "Look, I know what I saw. It was Jack."

"Then how do you explain the man who visited you earlier?"

Ianto's mind momentarily blanked as he thought of the Jack who had sat next to him on the bench. "He could have been an alien impersonating Jack."

"Another impersonator?" Yates made a sound disbelief. "Do you realize that within a span of a few days, you've already accused three people of being aliens?"

"Yeah, so? I've dealt with three aliens all at once."

"If you say so, but you don't find it rather incredulous that three aliens would spend so much time and effort to concentrate on you? I mean, couldn't we have just tortured you for the codes? Or use you as hostage in exchange for them?"

Ianto had asked himself those very same questions. He hated how Yates was able bring them up again, making him question if anything that came out of his mouth was true or if he was just scraping at the bottom of a barrel of reasons to explain everything away so he wouldn't have to accept the possibility that he had schizophrenia.

What really killed him was that deep down, he didn't really believe that an alien was impersonating Jack. Professor Jack Harkness had felt real, and no alien could mimic Jack's pheromones, even if Jack had referred to it as his aftershave.

Fuck, he just totally blew a hole into his own story. If that man who thought himself a professor was the real Jack, then he wouldn't have been able to send him a hologram, which meant that the man he had seen standing in his room had been something else.

Something like a hallucination, a voice in his head loudly whispered.

"What did you come here to my room?" he demanded. "What do you want? Or are you just following me around now."

Yates took Ianto's switch in topic in stride. "It's time for your meds." He lifted his hand, revealing another of those little cups with pills. "Take them." He reached into the pocket of his white coat and took out a small bottle of water.

Ianto stared at the offerings. "If I'm coming out of my so-called episode, why do I need to take pills?"

"You don't have episodes that run on a continued loop like some patients we have here. You come in and out of delusions all the time when you're off you're meds. Your medications keep the delusions away and help you stay lucid."

For every hole Ianto found, someone managed to deliver a very logical explanation to close it. It was starting to irritate him.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Well, we already argued about this. I'm not taking them."

"Maybe we should reconsider that train of thought." He lifted his bushy brows. "You just thought you saw Jack standing here in your room."

"I don't think I saw Jack, I _know_ I saw him." He knew that much. He may not be too sure of what it was that he had seen in his room, but he knew he saw something standing there.

"Take your meds," Yates urged, ignoring everything Ianto had just told him. He extended the hand that held the pills. "They're not going to do anything to you. Tosh has been taking them."

"And they could be the thing keeping her from remembering who she is." Ianto still hadn't quite let go of that particular theory.

"In that case, there should be no danger to you, considering that your memories seem intact."

"They could suppress my memories."

"For what purpose?"

"So I could give up the access codes."

"If the pills' purpose is to suppress your memories, then I highly doubt you'll be able to give anyone the codes, making the plan a moot point."

Ianto opened his mouth, but any words he would have said faltered. As much as he hated to admit it, he just couldn't argue with that logic.

"Go on," Yates encouraged. "They're only going to help you. I thought you wanted to get out of here."

"Don't you even try to use reverse psychology on me." Ianto firmly used a hand to move Yate's arm away from him. "I'm not going to take the meds, so you might as well give up."

Yates shook his head sadly, retracting his arm. "Giving up is not in my nature."

"Nor in mine."

Yates sighed and headed for the door. He paused at the doorway and turned half-way to look at him. "Ianto, seeing as how you think you saw someone that no one else could see, maybe you should consider the fact that by not fighting against the delusion, you already are giving up."

Before Ianto could respond, Yates left. Dismissing the man's words, he turned to the spot where Jack had stood, willing him to return. Of course the man didn't.

With a sigh, Ianto walked towards the window of his room and stared into the gardens, brooding. He didn't care what Yates had said, Ianto hadn't hallucinated Jack. He didn't have hallucinations, period.

Ianto really couldn't sit on his heels any longer. With everyone being screwed with one way or another, Ianto needed to do something to save himself.

He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking.

The only other person who might be able to help was Martha Jones. She was willing to help Torchwood in any way she could, and even if she couldn't help, she at least had a way to contact the Doctor. Ianto grimaced, resenting the idea of contacting a Time Lord who thought it fit to abandon Jack in space, but desperate times. Of course, the Doctor wasn't the most reliable of helpers, but he knew that the Time Lord cared greatly for his companions and would likely return to twenty-first century earth if Martha called him.

Unfortunately, he didn't know Martha's number by memory. It was programmed in his phone, but Ianto hadn't deemed it important enough for him to memorize since she worked for UNIT. It was programmed in Jack's phone, though. If he could scroll through Jack's phone, he could call her and—

He groaned as it suddenly occurred to him that the likelihood of Professor Harkness having Martha's number was slim. Shit. His supposed husband might not even know who she was, or if he did know a Martha she might be ignorant of Torchwood matters or be a different woman altogether.

At this point in the game, there was no harm in asking.

Ianto left his room, steps quick as he headed towards the phone at the nurse's station. As he got close, he realized someone was already talking on the phone. He drifted a few feet away, eventually ending up leaning against a wall that kept him close to the nurse's station so he could use the phone as soon as the other patient was done.

As he waited, his gaze swept the lounge, looking for a distraction. He settled on the television, which was playing what looked like a children's show. He was a little bewildered as to why the television was portraying a kids' show when there were no children to watch, but he noticed one patient's intense focus on the screen and the big, goofy grin on the man's face. His hand clutched the remote control, and he didn't seem to notice that he was the sole viewer of the show while other patients flocked around the second television on the other side of the lounge.

The patient in question reminded Ianto of a really big kid, genuinely happy watching the talking trains running down railroads as they communicated with each other with speech even though the only thing that moved on their faces were their eyes. During specific moments, the patient laughed or clapped his hands in excitement. Ianto found himself smiling in amusement, which was a surprise.

He hadn't had much to smile about in the past few days, but the childish glee on the patient's face touched something inside of him. So used to seeing the crazies, the childlike man made him see that mental institutions could, on occasion, be a good place for those who just needed someone to look out for them, to care.

The phone was finally available ten minutes later, and Ianto scurried over to it. He dialed Jack's number, hoping that the man would actually answer this time.

"Hello?"

"Jack? It's Ianto."

"Ianto?" Jack sounded surprised, which was a given, considering that Jack had left the hospital about an hour ago, tail between his legs as his crazy husband told him to go away. "Is something wrong?"

Ianto got right to the point. "Do you know a Martha Jones?"

There was a pause. "Yes, I do."

"Can I have her number?"

Another pause. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

Jack sighed, the sound loud in Ianto's ear. "It would be nice, since you don't usually ask to talk to Martha."

"Why? Did you cheat on me with her, too?" Okay, that wasn't supposed to come out. Ianto pinned it down to the lingering pain he still felt from the memory of Jack fucking Gwen.

"Of course not." Jack sounded affronted by his accusation, which was stupid since any man who cheated on their significant other should expect such questions.

Ianto muttered in Welsh about ignorant, selfish cheaters before using exaggerated patience to say, "Martha Jones was a former companion of the Doctor and she is the only ally in UNIT that Torchwood has. I want to talk to her so she could help me prove this is all a farce."

"No, Ianto, Martha isn't a companion to anyone."

It was Ianto's turn to sigh, one that was ill-suffering. He should have expected it. "Who is she, then?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"What's worse than remembering you fucking your secretary?" A nurse working behind the station jerked her head up, startled as she blinked her blue eyes at him. Ianto smiled as wide as possible, causing her to blush at the evidence of her eavesdropping before she looked away. Just because they could listen in didn't mean they had to make it obvious.

"Fine." There was a pregnant pause, and Ianto could almost see Jack thinking. "Martha is my friend."

Ianto waited for more, but no other information was given. "That's it? That's the big mystery?"

Jack cursed. "She's a close friend that you don't like because she was also a former lover, okay?"

Martha and Jack, together? Ianto grimaced. That seemed a bit unnatural, if only because Martha hadn't seemed to want to take her friendship with Jack any further than playful flirting. And Ianto genuinely liked Martha. Besides, it was a bit petty on his end to ever dislike a friend who was once a former lover of a man he loved.

He shook his head, reminding himself that the alien was warping his life and twisting things for its own plan. It was starting to worry him how often he needed to remind himself of that fact. "So if I asked her anything about Torchwood she won't know a bloody thing."

"No, she won't."

Ianto closed his eyes. "And if I ask for her number so I can talk to her myself?" Jack hesitated, but that was enough to let him know that he wasn't getting Martha's number. "You know what, never mind."

"Ianto—"

Ianto hanged up and stared at the phone for a moment as the wheels in his mind turned.

And then it came to him, the solution so simple he wanted to kick himself for not thinking about it sooner. The Hub. He needed to get to the Hub. The answer to all his problems had to be there. Everything could be put to rights if he had the proper equipment. He had a general idea of where he was anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge to find his way to the Plass. The only big challenge he faced was getting out of the hospital undetected.

He somehow doubted that asking for a leave of absence would be granted.

As he returned to his room, he already knew that leaving the hospital would be tricky. Cameras were everywhere and earlier investigations had found that the security video feeds went straight to a security room towards the back of the hospital where two security guards were always posted. Orderlies were always outside in the gardens to keep an eye on the patients, and it hadn't escaped his notice that the majority of orderlies were strong enough to hold down even the craziest of men.

So he needed to sit and plan.

He shut the door of his room for privacy and grabbed a piece of sketch paper and a pencil. Sitting down on the bed, he sketched out a crude outline of the hospital, using his memory to make a rough estimate of the size of the building within the property. Once he finished, he jotted down Xs to pinpoint the areas where he had spotted security cameras. If he was going to escape, he would need to use the blind spots to avoid detection.

The gardens were completely surrounded by brick walls, and after polite inquiring, Ianto had learned that visitors entered through large gates in front of the hospital building. There was a parking lot there, and once they entered the building they signed in at the nurse's lounge where they state their purpose for visiting. Ianto might be able to escape through the gates, but he wouldn't be able to get pass the nurse's station to leave the building's front entrance. Two nurses were always there.

The only other option he could think of was climbing over the walls, but he would need help for that and he had no one to ask. He could always recruit Tosh, but she would probably turn right around and tell somebody.

Checking the time on the little clock he had in his room, he realized it was nearing five in the afternoon, so Ianto tucked his blueprint in his sketchbook to keep it hidden. He would try to escape tomorrow, once he figured out the best way to do so.

Ianto stared down at his hand, once more taking in the faint discoloration on his skin. He clenched his fingers. Again he wondered why he had decided to forgive Jack. Now that a few hours had passed since the startling vision of Jack and Gwen together, he no longer felt sick to his stomach and his emotions were now fully under his control. He still wasn't happy with what he had seen, but common sense had finally reasserted itself. What he had seen, despite the vividness, was a memory of an event that he had never personally experienced. Thinking of it that way, it was much easier to examine the vision with some form of detachment.

He had been so furious and wounded by the betrayal, Ianto couldn't believe he could forgive him, not even if Jack had been there for him when his symptoms began to make an appearance. Even Tosh hated Jack and Gwen on his behalf, so what in the hell did Jack do to earn his forgiveness?


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Not sure what happened, but someone kindly pointed out that chapter six wasn't available even though I posted it, so I'm re-posting it. Let me know if it's working for you. Chapter Seven will be up later, once I give it a quick read-through.

* * *

><p>Chapter Six<p>

Two things occurred to Ianto during the middle of the night. One was that he would need money for transportation. He didn't want to steal a car and risk getting caught, so that left public transportation. A cab was the only option, actually.

The other thing that had occurred to him was that there was a way for him to climb over the wall without recruiting someone for assistance. The only issue with it was that it required climbing a tree.

It wasn't the brightest of ideas, that was for sure. It was idiotic and silly, especially when he hadn't climbed a tree since he was a young teenager. The idea being idiotic wasn't enough to deter him from considering it, though, especially when a quick stroll through the gardens after breakfast revealed a tree that had a long limb hovering over the wall. There were footholds on the tree trunk that he could use climb up until he reached the limb, and if he crawled across it he'd be able to move right over the wall. Besides, the sky was cloudy and rain was predicted later in the day. The cold air would deter most patients from going outside, so the gardens wouldn't be bustling with as much activity as it usually was. Chances of being seen climbing his way out of Whittier would most likely be slim.

It was a plausible plan.

It was still idiotic, though.

At least getting money wouldn't be as troublesome. He had been arrested for shoplifting once, but he had never been caught robbing the purses from women and money right from the pockets of men's trousers, and one of the reasons why he had been so good at that was not only because he had nimble fingers, but also because he had chosen his targets wisely.

The doctors, nurses, and orderlies were crossed off his victim's list. He doubted any of them actually carried any kind of money or credit cards with them, and they were trained to keep a close eye on patients. They would see him coming a mile away. The patients themselves definitely didn't carry money around so Ianto hadn't considered them at all.

That left him with the only option of pickpocketing a visitor of.

There were slim pickings in the gardens to choose from. It was still morning, so there were only a handful of visitors, but he made do with what he was offered.

He spotted a woman in a business suit sitting on a bench with another patient. Her body was facing the patient, but her back was facing the handbag that was sitting beside her.

Ianto casually strolled by, keeping an eye on the handbag. It wasn't left wide open, but it wasn't zipped closed either. If he could knock the bag to the ground, it'll most likely cause several items to fall out of it. He hoped one of those items was the woman's purse.

He paused, turned on his heel, and headed towards them. As soon as he was close enough he pretended to trip and lunged his body towards the woman. He fell against her and used his hand to push her bag right down onto the ground. Even as the woman made a sound of surprise, he could hear dozens of items scattering onto the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Ianto exclaimed, scrambling off of her. The woman scowled, but the patient didn't react to his intrusion, staring off into space. Ianto wondered if something was going on in the man's head that kept him from responding to the world around him, which currently worked in Ianto's favor. He didn't have to worry about the patient catching him in the act of stealing from his visitor.

The woman huffed, standing up. "Watch where you're going." She crouched down to pick up her bag and returned the items that spilled out of it.

"Of course, of course." Ianto bent down to help her. The woman was muttering curses, which didn't make Ianto feel too sorry about robbing her. His eye caught sight of a small wad of folded bills. Ha! Could he pick them, or what? The lady didn't even bother to keep her money in a purse. He quickly hid the money under his knee and grabbed a compact mirror and a glasses case.

The woman yanked both things out of his hand and put it in her bag. She glowered at him and turned back to the patient. Ianto carefully removed the money from beneath his knee and stuffed it in the pocket of his robe. He stood up and sniffed before turning on his heel and walking away, seeking an isolated spot to count the money.

He hid behind a tree on the other side of the gardens, which was as far as he could get from the woman. She hadn't checked to see if all the things that had flown out of her bag were there, but he didn't want to be around her in case she eventually noticed that she was missing some money.

He counted the bills and was satisfied to have more than enough for cab fare. He tucked the money back inside his pocket and leaned against the tree. He was one step closer to getting out, and he was anxious to get to the Hub so he could fix this whole mess. From Annie's sudden resurrection to Jack's affair with Gwen, being in the mental hospital was making him face things he hadn't wanted to face.

And it wasn't just those awful discoveries that were making life in Whittier nearly unbearable. Being here, he was forced to confront the memories of his mother he had thought he had buried so deep that he had hoped he would never have to deal with them again. At every corner was a reminder of his mother, and now he was forced to face the fear of inheriting her mental illness.

He rubbed at his face, turning his mind back to his plan of climbing a tree. Common sense said that he should wait until he had a more concrete plan, but all other plans would result in him staying in the mental institution longer. It wasn't even a week since he woke up here, and he was already struggling with doubts. He was afraid of what would happen if he stayed any longer.

Besides, all other avenues of escape seemed risky for someone to do it alone—it wasn't like he could call for back-up or depend on someone to cause a distraction while he made his grand escape—and just because the plan was stupid didn't mean it wouldn't work. Some time ago, he and Jack had joined a dancing competition to stop an alien who had enjoyed using its powers to watch humans dance themselves to death. The plan had been stupid, but it had worked.

As casually as possible, he walked to the tree he had labeled as the best one to help him escape. He looked up and studied the limbs until his eyes singled out the limb he had found earlier. It looked thick enough to hold a grown man's weight, and the limb stretched out far enough for him to make his way completely over the wall. He estimated the wall to be about eight feet tall, and the limb hovered about three feet over it, for an estimated total of an eleven foot drop from limb to grass.

He could handle eleven feet.

"What are you doing?"

Ianto jumped and spun around. Owen was standing in front of him with a slight frown. Ianto cleared his throat and tugged on his robe. "Nothing."

"You've been standing there for a few minutes staring up at the tree." Owen glanced up. "What are you looking at?"

Ianto arched a brow. "I can't admire a bird?"

Owen glanced up again. "I don't see any birds."

"Are you accusing me of seeing birds that aren't there?"

Owen looked genuinely shocked. "I was merely saying that I don't see any birds."

"What do you want?" Ianto asked, hoping his impatience didn't show.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Well of course I have." Ianto scowled. "I have nothing to say to the alien who put me here, and after I figure out a way to prove it to everyone, I'll personally take great joy in locking you up in the Hub's cells."

"I was under the impression that you were beginning to have doubts about your Torchwood life."

"Who told you that?"

"Glyn."

Bloody Glyn. In a moment of weakness, Ianto had allowed himself to drop his emotional barriers and now it was biting him in the ass. "I never said I had doubts about anything."

"But you did say that you were beginning to wonder if Yates's and my suggestion to say the codes would be, as it had been quoted to me, your 'ticket' out of here. That, to me, speaks of doubts."

"I never mentioned the codes to Glyn."

"Didn't have to. I understood the implication."

Ianto ignored that. "And I don't have doubts." Ianto kept his voice firm despite the fact that he was lying.

By the look on Owen's face, he didn't believe him. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that my door, and Yates's door, is always open if you feel a need to talk to someone besides Glyn. You don't have to wait to have your sessions to talk to us."

"I'm fine." Ianto crossed his arms and leaned back against the tree, striking a casual pose. "I'm perfectly fine."

Owen narrowed his eyes. "You sure? Because there was also mention of you seeing Jack in a RAF coat in your room."

"Is nothing ever kept secret around here?" he muttered.

"No, not when it comes to our patients."

In that case, Ianto would never reveal his thoughts to anyone ever again. "Yes, I saw Jack, and no, he wasn't a hallucination. I already told Yates this." He looked away, taking interest in a buzzing bee that flew by them. "Now leave me alone."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Owen open his mouth, close it, and then walk away. If he had been in a different situation, he would have commended the way the doctors, and especially Owen, were so involved in their patients' recovery process.

But Ianto—and he couldn't believe he was thinking it—actually missed the real Owen. Even though the fake Owen was an alien in disguise, it was still unnerving to be faced with a smile on Owen's lips and compassion in his eyes. He missed the cynical glint in Owen's eyes and the insults he always threw at everyone. He couldn't wait to see him again.

He looked around the gardens. Even though a lot of the patients had remained indoors to avoid the cold weather, there were still too many outside. If he was going to go through with his plan, then his best bet would be during lunch. Lunch was served for about two hours, but everyone tried to get their lunches as early as possible—the best sandwiches were always the first to go—so while everyone was venturing inside to get their lunches, there would be less of a chance of being seen climbing up the tree. Once he was on the limb, the leaves and branches should cover him if people opted to ignore the cold weather and eat outside.

For now, he stepped away from the tree and killed time by returning to the lounge. He had two hours to wait before lunch was served and he might as well look busy.

Ianto sat on a couch in front of one of the televisions and snagged a newspaper from the coffee table. A while later, he was engrossed in a story of an earthquake striking the Middle East when a slim hand waved in front of his line of sight.

"I'm reading, Tosh."

Tosh laughed and climbed over the back of the couch to settle on the cushion beside him. "I'm bored," she announced.

"Go play with someone else." He focused on the paper, hoping she would go away. Usually he didn't mind spending time with Tosh (she was practically his only friend in the entire hospital), but she tended to stick to him like glue most of the time. If she was still at his side when lunch was announced, there would be no shaking her off. She'd wonder where he was going if he said anything about skipping lunch, and if he didn't provide a sufficient explanation she'd follow him. He wouldn't be able to attempt an escape if she followed.

Tosh grabbed the top of the newspaper and lowered it just enough to prevent Ianto from reading. When he glared at her, she pouted. "Aw, come on!" She shifted closer when another patient sat on the couch on the other side of her. "Let's play chess."

Ianto grimaced. "I'd rather not." He wasn't particularly good at the game and one could only take losing for so long.

"You don't suck that bad."

He lightly slapped her hand away from his newspaper and he shook it so it could straighten it. "I'm sure you can find someone else who'd like to play chess with you."

"Half of them are too busy talking to walls, and the other half don't suck as much as you do."

Ianto shot her a look. "You just said I don't suck that bad."

"In general, you don't. But against good players, you're pretty bad."

"Then why are you bugging me to play?"

"Because I get to win!" She smiled wide. "Not too often I'm better than you at something."

Ianto rolled his eyes and returned to his newspaper, hoping she would get the hint and leave him alone. She ignored the hint and shook his shoulder. "Tosh," he warned.

She sighed loudly, but didn't move. Instead, she said, "So are you ready to talk about Jack?"

Ianto kept his eyes on the newspaper, but his vision turned inward at Tosh's question. "No," he said softly. After yesterday's encounter, Ianto had ignored and brushed off all of Tosh's questions, only telling her that he now knew why Tosh hated Jack and Gwen so much. "There's no point in talking about it."

"No point? Ianto, you just found out that the man you love had an affair with someone else." She paused. "Well, you haven't just found out, technically, but—"

"It doesn't matter." He lowered the newspaper to look at her. "To you and everyone else, Jack cheating on me was something that actually happened, but to me it's just a nasty memory implanted in everyone's head." He shrugged a shoulder when Tosh frowned at him. "So yeah, it doesn't matter. Talking about it isn't going to change anything." He lifted his newspaper. "Getting everyone's memories back will. And finding Owen," he added with good measure. Finding Owen would probably have to wait until after he fixed everyone else's memories, though.

"Bullshit. It clearly had some impact on you since you wouldn't be so determined to not talk about it."

"I talked to Glyn, if it makes you feel better. "

"Why would you talking to Glyn make me feel any better?" Tosh snatched the newspaper out of his hands, and he was surprised he didn't get a paper cut. "You should have talked to me."

"Am I not allowed to have conversations with other people?"

"No."

Ianto arched a brow. "Possessive, aren't you?" He reached for the paper, but she held it out of his reach. "Tosh."

"What?" She opened the newspaper. "I'm reading."

"You are so childish." In some ways, Tosh reminded him of a bratty little sister, despite the fact that she was older than him. He wondered if that was how her personality might have turned out if she didn't have Torchwood matters weighing on her mind or if her mental illness gave her free reign to act as she pleased. "When did your hallucinations start?" he asked, realizing that he never inquired as to what story the alien had implanted in Tosh's brain to explain how she ended up in the hospital.

Tosh gave up any pretense of reading the paper and lowered it. "I've had them for years. I had them in my early twenties, but they weren't big or distracting back then. In fact, a part of me thought they were the result of an overactive imagination. But then they started getting more intense and my parents were concerned, so they put me in here." She leaned against the back of the couch, tugging the blanket that had been draped over the back of it and wrapping it around herself. "It took a long time for me to be able to tell what was real and what wasn't. Even when they talk to me, I more or less ignore them."

"Like Suzie?"

"Yup." She pointed to a corner across the room. "She's right over there, but I know she's a hallucination so I try to ignore her."

"But didn't you ever fight the idea that you were having hallucinations?"

"Of course. I didn't want to be one of the crazies and when I first arrived I refused my meds." The patient sitting next to her began to tug on the blanket, presumably to take it away from Tosh, but she hanged on tight to the material and slapped the patient's hand. "Ask, don't just take!" She sniffed and returned her attention to Ianto. "But after a few sessions with Owen and a bit of soul-searching, I realized that I wasn't crazy. I was just not quite right in the brain and that the meds would help me function."

"But you still refer to yourself as crazy."

"In jest!" She shrugged. "And besides, I can get away with calling myself crazy. I'm the one that sees things that aren't there."

"Weren't you ever scared?" he asked quietly. "You know, of having a mental illness."

"I think everyone is scared when they're being told that they have a mental illness, and I don't think that fear ever truly goes away, but once you realize that being mentally ill isn't the end of the world the fear isn't quite as strong." Tosh placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder, squeezing tight. "I know you're scared, but it's all going to be okay."

"Yeah," he said. By the end of the day, once he found the Hub, everything would be okay. He smiled at her. "So, can I have my newspaper back?"

As he hoped, Tosh eventually got bored with Ianto ignoring her and went in search of someone else to talk to. Ianto amused himself with the newspaper until it was close to lunchtime. He put the newspaper back and left the lounge, going out to the gardens and remaining calm and casual in the face of the patients who were walking in the opposite direction and towards the lounge.

He wasted no time going to his selected tree, trying to stay out of any of the cameras' views. He did keep his pace steady, though, on the off-chance that a camera caught him walking by. If a security guard viewing the video feeds saw him, he would think Ianto was just walking around the gardens.

When he reached the tree he kept it between himself and the camera that was pointing in his general direction. He peeked around, waiting for the number of people in the gardens to drop to a minimal level until only a few people remained in his area. He would have preferred it to be empty, but at least no one was facing his way. He hoped it stayed that way while he was climbing.

Ianto grabbed hold of the tree and looked up, taking a deep breath as he calculated the best way to climb. As he started to climb, he had a few false starts. His slippers weren't the best footwear, since the soles were smooth and kept slipping every time he tried to gain leverage on the tree bark. He considered the idea of taking off his slippers and climb barefoot, but his feet probably wouldn't survive if he removed them. So he soldiered on with his slippers still on his feet, and eventually he managed to find a certain angle with his feet that lessened that chance of slippage. His hands dug tight to the tree bark and he winced at the way it would sometimes bite into his skin.

It was tedious work as he made his way up, but most of the tediousness stemmed from his worry of being caught. Any minute now, he expected an orderly to catch him or for a patient to draw attention to him by shouting at him. He was sweating by the time he was straddling his chosen limb, and he took a moment to revel in the fact that he made it without anyone seeing him. He rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks and examined his hands. They weren't too bad, but they were scratched up in places.

He lay down on the limb, prepared to belly crawl his way across it. It was his only option that wouldn't result in a fall. As he prepared to scoot forward, he unwillingly caught a glimpse of the ground below and froze. He belatedly realized that perhaps he should have waited for a more concrete plan.

"I'm an idiot for doing this," he whispered, heart in his throat as he got a good look at how high up he was. It sure as hell didn't look like eleven feet from where he was. Maybe he_ was_ crazy. What sane person would do this? Belly crawl across a limb. Babies belly crawled on the floor, not grown men on tree limbs that were several feet above the ground.

If he made it over the wall, it wasn't because of skills or talent. Oh, no. If he made it, it would only be because of sheer dumb luck.

He sighed. Might as well move forward with his plan.

With his hands gripping the sides as he used his feet to push forward, he moved across the limb. He grimaced at the way the bark rubbed against his body—the hospital's standard pajamas and robe did nothing for him—but he didn't stop. It was a slow-moving process, though. He was going as fast as he safely could, but when stray voices began to reach his ears he realized that people were beginning to return to the gardens. Shit, how much time had passed? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Well, it wasn't like it took too much time to finish a sandwich and apple.

It seemed like forever before he reached the point where the limb was stretching over the wall, but once he did the limb shuddered heavily. Ianto stilled. Oh god, he feverishly hoped that it didn't crack under his weight. He was so close! The last thing he needed was for the limb to break and send him tumbling down. It'd probably result in broken bones, and it would be weeks, if not months, before he could remotely attempt another escape.

The limb stopped shuddering and Ianto waited a long moment before slowly resuming his journey. Ianto's vision soon saw the grassy green that rested outside the walls that enclosed the hospital, and when his body was fully over the wall, he sat up and patted the limb fondly.

But now came the final, and perhaps the hardest, part: getting down. He would have to fall, of course, but if he managed to land on his feet and distribute his weight equally, he would be less likely to snap an ankle. Maybe. Hopefully.

He looked left and right and saw no one. For once he was grateful for the extra few acres that put distance between the hospital and the closest neighborhood. Ianto carefully lowered himself onto the limb again and grabbed onto it with both hands before he slowly shifted his weight to one side. He kept shifting until his body completely slid off. Ianto grunted but managed to hold on tight to the limb with his hands as his legs swayed and the limb jerked.

He tightened his hands and looked down below. Once again, the ground felt miles away and he couldn't help but think what would happen if he snapped a bone. What would he do? He couldn't crawl to the nearest neighborhood.

"I better get a raise for this," he muttered.

He took a deep breath and let go.

Ianto managed to land on his feet, but ended up falling on his ass anyway. He winced, but a quick inspection of his body revealed no injuries. Ianto took a precious moment to revel in the fact that he wasn't hurt. He couldn't believe his good fortune.

He didn't spend much reveling, though. He was still in the vicinity of the hospital and could still get caught. He quickly stood up and ran towards the closest neighborhood. He glanced over his shoulder a few times, but no one followed. When he managed to reach the neighborhood, it was quiet and lacked any activity. It looked almost abandoned, if not for the few stray cars parked in front of small homes.

He sought out street signs to guide him as he walked down the pavements, and even though it took a lot longer than he wanted, he finally managed to track down a semi-busy area where cabs could be called. He whistled and lifted a hand when he spotted one, but it went right on by. Frowning, he tried again with a second cab, but it also ignored him.

"Damn it," he muttered, tightening the knot that held his robe together. He knew he looked out of place standing in the middle of the pavement wearing his pajamas and robe, but he had seen cabs pick up people who were dressed worse than him. He got a few curious looks from fellow pedestrians as he continued walking, but he hoped they pinned his wardrobe down to eccentricity and didn't call the police.

When a third cab ignored him, he reached into his pocket and took out the money. The next time he spotted a cab, he made sure the driver got a good look at the bills as he called out for it. He hid a smirk when the cab obediently stopped in front of him.

Money was a beautiful thing in this day and age.

He got inside and quickly told the driver to take him to the Plass. He leaned his head back against the seat and stared out the window as the cab pulled into the street. He hoped no one noticed he was no longer at the hospital just yet. He wasn't sure what time it was, but if he was calculating it correctly, over an hour had passed by since he first started to climb the tree. He figured it would take a while before anyone realized he was actually off the property and not just hiding somewhere in the building.

When the cab reached the Plass, Ianto paid the cab driver more than the required fare, making the older man grin in appreciation. Ianto left the cab and headed towards the tourist center. He shivered at the wind and hunched into his robe, wishing that he had a jacket or something thicker to chase away the chill.

Another shiver struck him when he reached the tourist center, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

The front of the tourist center didn't look right. There was wood over the glass window that took up a good portion of the upper half of the door and the paint on the exterior walls was faded, chipped, and covered in graffiti. What the hell? It looked like it did back when Ianto had first started working at Torchwood Three, before he had decided to spruce up the tourist center so it would make a more believable cover.

He grabbed the doorknob, but it refused to turn and the door didn't budge when Ianto pushed himself against it. Backing up, Ianto kicked the door in, grunting when pain shot up his foot. His slipper wasn't thick and it almost felt like Ianto was kicking in the door with his bare foot.

The door swung wide and slammed against the wall. Ianto limped inside and coughed as he walked right into a small cloud of dust. He waved his hand around as he took in the tourist center, grimacing. The area looked like it hadn't been touched in years, the air stifling and dust covering every surface. A sense of foreboding began to wash over him. Ianto swallowed and walked around the counter, searching for the button to open the hidden entrance that led to the Hub.

He frowned when the button wasn't in the place it usually rested. He licked his lips nervously and began to feel all around the space under the counter. He even crouched down to look, but it wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"Damn it," he muttered, beginning to sweat at the implications of the missing button.

He stood up and turned his attention to the hidden entrance. He palmed the wall and pushed hard, but it didn't give way. Ianto kicked at it, which did nothing except make his poor foot throb even more.

Hands on the wall, he realized there were a few loose stones. Similar to what he had done to the brick wall in Whittier, he pried at the stones, trying to locate the loosest. When he found one, he wiggled it out. It required less effort than the brick had required at Whittier, but it was still hell on his fingers that already had scratches from his tree-climbing.

He dropped the stone on the floor and peered into the opening, seeing—darkness. Nothing but darkness. Ianto took a startled step back. That was impossible. The staircase to the main Hub was curved and long, so there were a couple of bulbs that kept the staircase lit twenty-four a day, seven days a week. He had changed the bulbs himself not too long ago. There should be light in there.

He needed to knock the wall down. He looked around and spotted a steel chair leaning against a corner. He retrieved it, noting a missing leg but dismissing it. The steel chair was the best weapon he had to break through the wall; a missing chair leg didn't matter. He leaned the chair against the counter and proceeded to remove the rest of the loose stones, hoping that it would weaken the wall enough for him to create a big enough hole to crawl through.

Once he had a small pile of stones on the floor, he grabbed the chair and shifted it in his hands to angle it in the best and most effective way possible, ignoring the way his hands stung as he gripped the chair tight.

He swung.

It took many strikes and a lot of strength behind each swing, but stones began to drop and Ianto kept going until he had a nice big hole in the middle, big enough for a man to go through. Ianto dropped the stool and approached the hole, breathing heavily. He looked inside, the open door of the tourist center letting in enough light for him to see.

Something in his chest plummeted down to his stomach and right in front of his feet on the floor. He had expected to see stairs leading down, but he didn't see stairs. He saw the things that normal walls had: pipes, wires, and plywood. There was no entrance to the Hub.

He stood stock still for several seconds before he reeled back a few steps and ran out of the tourist center. His legs pumped as he crossed the Plass, not stopping until he reached the slab of stone where the perception filter was. He stepped on it, hoping it would shift and descend.

It didn't move.

He jumped on it several times, urging the fucking thing to lower him into the Hub, but nothing happened. He looked up and found several people staring at him. He stepped off the lift and moved to the right, their eyes following him. He moved back on the lift where the perception filter should keep him invisible, but his unwanted audience was still watching him. They could _see_ him.

Throat tight and heart furiously pounding, Ianto left the lift and returned to the tourist center. Once inside, he stared at the broken wall, as if by looks alone the entrance to the Hub would materialize, but nothing happened. He couldn't believe it. It was just a broken wall.

There was no Hub, a voice whispered, and Ianto's breath caught as he stared at the proof of that statement.

_There was no Hub._

Ianto leaned back against the counter and slid down until his bottom hit the floor with a thump. His breath came out in gasps and he knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. He had been so sure that the Hub was the solution to all his problems, but instead he found nothing. Literally nothing. Not finding the Hub meant only one thing, and Ianto gulped, trying to breathe but finding it difficult to do so. He couldn't deny what was staring him right in the face.

Torchwood didn't exist.

Ianto didn't even realize he was crying until he realized that the sobs that reached his ears were his own.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Ianto."

Ianto lifted his head from his upraised knees and found Jack crouched in front of him, glasses perched on his nose. "You look good with glasses, you know that?" His throat was scratchy and his voice was hoarse. "Bloody hot, actually."

Jack smiled, although it didn't detract from the concern on his face. "You always did like it whenever I wore them during sex." He cupped Ianto's cheek, thumb tracing the wet tracks Ianto's tears had left behind. "You've been crying."

Ianto nodded. "That's what happens when you find proof that contradicts everything you believed was true." He laughed, and even he could hear how broken and humorless it sounded. "Tosh and Owen I can explain. You know, she had her memories tampered with and Owen is an imposter. Gwen's refusal to help was a little off-putting, but hey, the alien must have got to her." He pointed at Jack. "But you should have really been the kicker. Captain Jack Harkness is the most brilliant man I have ever met, and I find it absurd that an alien could so easily get to you."

"I don't understand what you're talking about, Ianto," Jack said, confused.

He pulled his face away from Jack's hands and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe at his nose. "I thought that if I can come here to the Hub, then I can finally save you all." He indicated the hole, drawing Jack's attention to it. "But there's no Hub. There's no stairs. There aren't even the two light bulbs I changed not too long ago. There's nothing. There are just pipes and wires. The invisible lift doesn't exist either. When I was jumping on it, trying to make it go down, people were able to see me and they shouldn't have been able to."

Ianto felt his face crumple as all the emotions—frustration, anger, disbelief, pain—began to bubble to the surface again. He still couldn't believe that the Hub didn't exist.

"That was the last straw," he whispered, grief-stricken. "That means that there's no Torchwood Three even though I have all these memories of working in the Hub, of feeding the Weevils and Myfanwy, of fucking you in your office and sleeping in your bunker, but there's no Hub which means none of that happened, which means there's no Torchwood because there's no fucking Hub—" Ianto knew he was getting hysterical as he kept repeating the fact that the Hub wasn't where it should be, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Hey, hey," Jack murmured, leaning forward and drawing him against his chest.

"I don't understand." Ianto's voice was muffled against Jack's chest. "How can all of this be real?"

Jack didn't say anything, he just tightened his hold and kissed the top of his head. Ianto took in Jack's scent, and while the pheromones—aftershave?—usually calmed him, it didn't do much for him this time. He was too distraught, with his nose clogged up from crying and his body trembling from the high levels of emotions he was experiencing. If Ianto had been able to, he would have found a way to crawl inside Jack just so he could get away from the confusion that was his life.

Eventually, Ianto's emotional binge ceased as his erratic emotions finally settled to something a bit more tolerable. He was still very much upset, but he was no longer on the verge of hysteria.

He pulled away from Jack, and murmured his thanks when he was offered a handkerchief. "I feel a little numb," he confessed.

"Not surprised. You're probably emotionally drained."

Ianto blew into the handkerchief. It was enough to clear his airways and enable him to take a deep breath. "I wasn't prepared for this." He pointed at the broken wall so Jack would know what he was talking about.

"Of course you weren't. I just wished you had listened to us when we told you about Torchwood." Jack reached out to caress Ianto's cheek. "You scared me, you know."

Ianto sniffed. "Why?"

"You weren't at the hospital when I arrived to see you. They looked everywhere for you and you were nowhere. I was so damn pissed at the hospital for losing you, but I was mostly scared." Jack arched a curious brow. "You're going to have to explain how you left."

"It wasn't hard." Understatement, but it didn't matter. Quietly, he said, "I'm scared, Jack."

"I know."

He didn't rebuff Jack when he offered a second hug. Ianto's fingers curled into the jumper Jack wore, and wasn't that strange! Jack wearing a jumper. Ianto couldn't remember a time when Jack wore a jumper. "I'm Torchwood. That organization has been a part of me in what seems like forever. It identified me. I'm scared of not having that part of me anymore. What am I going to do without it?"

"You're going to live." Jack planted his chin on top of Ianto's head. "You've done it before. It's a little scary now, but once you remember who you really are you'll see that you have no reason to be afraid."

Ianto was silent for one long moment. "I keep getting flashes of memories about my life here."

The hand Jack had been using to rub Ianto's back stilled. "You do?" He pulled back just enough to look at Ianto's face. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought they were false memories that an alien was implanting inside my head. I didn't want to believe them, and I didn't want anyone else to know. I knew if I said anything all of you would push me even more to accept this life."

Jack lowered his head to nuzzle Ianto's cheek. "I wish you said something before, sweetheart. All we want is to help you."

Ianto closed his eyes as he accepted the comfort Jack freely offered, because he was shaken and afraid and he just wanted to be held. The world he thought he knew had been drastically altered and being in Jack's arms grounded him, preventing him from spiraling down into a hole Ianto wasn't sure he would be able to climb out of.

Ianto wasn't sure how long they sat there. He was on the verge of dozing when he heard Jack say, "I need to take you back to the hospital."

His eyes snapped open. "No, you can't." Ianto moved back as far as Jack's arms allowed so he could look at Jack directly. "They'll probably put me in isolation or make me wear a straitjacket for running away." He wasn't sure if they would isolate him in his room or put him on the third floor, but he would go crazy being isolated, and no way in hell did he want a straitjacket on him. The orderlies would have a struggle on their hands if they attempted to put one on him.

"That won't happen." Jack sounded confident.

"You don't know that for sure."

"They fucked up, and they'll have to deal with me for not keeping an eye on you." Jack cupped Ianto's face, leaning close until their foreheads were almost touching. He looked apologetic. "But you need to go back, Ianto."

"How easily you trust a hospital that didn't stop me from escaping." If Jack heard the bitterness in his tone, he didn't acknowledge it.

"You're clever, so I know you didn't just walk right pass the front door to get out, and I may be furious at them for letting this happen, but the hospital _has_ been helping you. You were doing so well before you relapsed again."

"Again," Ianto whispered. "How many times have I relapsed?"

"That's not the point—"

"How many times?"

Jack paused, taking in the stubbornness on Ianto's face. His lips tightened, but he gave into Ianto's persistence. "You've relapsed at least three times now. You get antsy and restless when you feel that you're ready to go home, so you stop taking your meds and then your delusions return. You always feel like you're ready to come home sooner than you actually are." Jack sighed and kissed Ianto's forehead, the touch lingering. "I can't help you the way the doctors at Whittier can, sweetheart. You need to go back, and I swear one day you will come home and we'll be just as happy as we were before."

Ianto's brow furrowed. "_Were_ we happy? Before you and Gwen—Before I went crazy . . ." He sighed. "Were we really happy?"

Jack smiled sadly. "Yeah. We were so happy. I messed up. It wasn't you, it was never you. I'm the one that took the coward's way out of a shitty situation. You were always better than me."

_"I'm not better than you," Ianto said, hands tucked in the pockets of his robe. "I'm not better than anyone. I withdrew from you, and I didn't notice that you didn't feel comfortable running in the same art circles that I did. I let my success go straight to my head. That's on me and I played a role in the strain of our marriage, but I just handled our problems differently than you did. That doesn't make me a better person." He tilted his head upwards. "And your choice to sleep with Gwen sucked, but it doesn't make you a bad person."_

_He looked at Jack, whose eyes shifted a little. He looked just as ashamed as he had the night Ianto caught him and Gwen together, but this time Ianto wasn't so blinded by rage and hurt that he couldn't see the expression. _

_"I should have never slept with her," Jack admitted, and Ianto resisted the urge to give a sarcastic reply, something along the lines 'Well, obviously.' Jack suddenly looked earnest. "But it's over. She's gone. I haven't slept with anyone else. After what I did to you, I swore it on my mother's grave I would never do that to you again."_

_"Your mother's grave?"_

_Jack nodded. "And you know how close I was to her." He grimaced. "She'd have probably given my ass a good kicking for doing what I did to you, but I swore on her grave that I would never cheat on you again, no matter what."_

_"Okay." Ianto grabbed Jack's hand. "I believe you."_

_Jack looked surprised. "You do?"_

_"I believe you're sorry," Ianto specified. "As part of my treatment here, I have sessions twice a week with a couple of psychiatrists. One of them said that one of the first things I needed to do was accept what happened between you and Gwen, because being angry wasn't going to help my recovery, and I also needed to choose how to deal with it, decide if I'm going to forgive you or not. So I accepted it as a mistake that you made, and I've chosen to forgive you."_

_Jack looked so hopeful by his words that Ianto suddenly realized that even though Jack had brought the situation of his affair onto himself, Ianto still mattered. He hadn't realized how the affair had shaken his confidence of his place in Jack's life, but seeing the hope on Jack's face told him that despite the fact that Jack had chosen to shag someone else, Ianto was still in his heart. He was still important and he was still loved._

_But that didn't mean Ianto was going to let Jack off the hook completely. Another thing he had learned from his sessions was that he needed to be honest. In some ways, a lack of honesty and communication was what led to the strain in their marriage in the first place, which led to Jack sleeping with Gwen. "But I need time to trust you. I believe that you're sorry and ashamed of your actions, but you broke my trust in you and it's going to take time before I can look at you and believe that you won't hurt me like that again. Can you accept that?"_

_"Of course." Jack squeezed his hand. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'll prove to you that you can trust me." He smiled, but it was as cautious as it was hopeful, as if he was unsure if he was allowed to smile. "I'm just glad you're giving me a chance."_

_Ianto nodded. There was something else he needed to say, and while he was hesitant, he forced the words out of his mouth. "And another thing you should know is that you did right by putting me in here. I hated you when you first brought me here, but now that a few weeks have passed I know it was the right thing to do. Whittier is a good hospital, and I think I'm starting to get better. They tell me I'm getting better, anyway."_

_"Hopefully you'll get better soon and then I can bring you home, and we'll start over."_

_When Jack hugged him, Ianto accepted it. Despite all the pain, he really did love Jack. The man might have hurt him, but Ianto wasn't going to let the marriage end without a fight. He wasn't going to give up on his husband. They would start again._

"So that's why I forgave you," Ianto murmured.

Jack looked confused. "What?"

"I just had a flash. A memory, I guess. I remember standing in the hospital's gardens, and telling you that I forgive you, but that it would take time for you to regain my trust."

Jack smiled, looking relieved. "I think that means you're starting to come out of your delusion. Have you told Dr. Harper or Dr. Yates that you've been remembering?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, because like I said, I just thought the visions were false or something, but now . . ." He looked at the hole in the wall. He looked away, finding it difficult to face evidence he had never wanted to discover in the first place.

"Tell the doctors about your flashes of memory," Jack suggested. "They'll be even less inclined to put you in isolation."

"We can't know that for sure," he muttered. "And I don't want to go back." He sounded petulant even to his own ears.

Jack chuckled, and Ianto scowled. He couldn't see what Jack found so funny about the situation. Jack caught the scowl. "You sound the same way you always do whenever you don't want to do something. It's comforting to know that the real you is coming back."

Now what could Ianto say to that? He lost his scowl and dropped his head forward until his forehead touched Jack's shoulder. "If you think I'm going to be a good little patient like Tosh is, forget it." That was as close as he was going to get to agreeing to go back to the hospital.

"Understood." Jack gently pushed Ianto back just enough so he could stand. He offered Ianto a hand.

After a slight moment of hesitation, Ianto accepted it and allowed Jack to pull him up to his feet. He started when Jack grabbed both hands and jerked his hands upwards, displaying his palms. "What are you doing?"

Jack was examining his hands. "What happened?

Ianto blinked down at his palms and realized Jack was referring to the scrapes on his hands, the skin red and torn in some places. "Oh." He frowned. "Tree bark and the stones."

"What?"

"I climbed a tree to get over the wall, and I used my hands to take out some of the stones so I can destroy the wall." He nodded at said wall.

Jack stared at him, his mouth hanging slightly open. Then he laughed. "You climbed a tree?" he asked through his laughter.

Amazingly, Ianto found his lips curving into a smile. He didn't think he would ever smile again, but in hindsight, he supposed his escape via a tree was amusing. "Piece of cake."

"My clever, clever boy." Jack looked at him fondly, the grin on his lips widening when Ianto's stomach grumbled. "Hungry?"

"Yes," Ianto answered, surprised. He wasn't sure how he was hungry after the emotional rollercoaster he had just gone through.

"We'll stop at some place to get you something to eat."

"But you just said you need to take me back to Whittier."

Jack shrugged. "They lost you in the first place, so let them freak out for a while. They deserve it. Besides," he said, with a wink, "I don't mind keeping you to myself for a little bit before I let them know I found you." Jack took a hold of his arm and began to guide him out of the tourist center.

Ianto took one last lingering look at the hole he made in wall before stepping out of the tourist center. He knew as they left that it was the last time that he was going to see it. "How did you find me anyway?" Ianto asked.

"It wasn't very hard. You speak of Torchwood so much that after I got over my initial panic of you being gone from the hospital—and the urge to strangle the staff for not keeping a better eye on you—I began to think of where you would go. I was pretty sure you would come here, to your Hub."

Ianto leaned against Jack as the man led to him to his car. Ianto felt lost, unsteady, and he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do now. His whole goal had been to find Torchwood, and now he was just supposed to go back to Whittier and accept he had schizophrenia?

He wished for a sign, any sign, of Torchwood's existence. An alien's presence, Jack remembering who he was, _anything_.

He wasn't surprised when all he got was nothing.

* * *

><p>Jack parked the car in a quiet neighborhood. Ianto blinked. "Why are we here?"<p>

"I want you to enjoy your lunch. Take your time."

He was tempted to ask Jack why, but didn't want to push his luck. He took a chip from his fish and chips and chewed on it, peering at Jack from beneath his lashes. Jack's arms were folded on the steering wheel, looking straightforward. He seemed relaxed, willing to remain silent so Ianto could enjoy his food in peace.

Ianto got comfortable on his seat of the car, which was such an ordinary vehicle. It suited the man sitting in the driver's seat, though. Not flashy or fancy, just reliable.

"Have you always had glasses?" he asked, noting how the sun was reflecting off of them.

Jack turned his head in his direction. "Ever since I was a teenager. I was fourteen when things in the distance started looking fuzzy."

"Why don't you wear contacts?"

"Tried to, but they're so itchy. Glasses are fine. Besides, it suits a professor, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess. Fits the whole nerdy professor stereotype." He grabbed another chip. "It's strange."

Jack cocked his head to the side. "What is?"

"Sitting here, next to a man who's supposed to be my husband, and all I remember is you telling me that labels are restrictive and confining."

Jack frowned, glancing away. "I was told that my switch in personality was because you needed a reason for why I did what I did. With Gwen."

He felt a spark of something ugly at the mention of her name, but it didn't get any bigger than that.

"How long was the affair?" It was a question that had been bugging him for the past twenty-four hours—Jesus, had it only been twenty-four hours?—and he really wanted to understand how a man who claimed to love him would seek the body of another just to get away from their marital problems.

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Ianto—"

"Look, I get that you may have had this conversation with me already, but I don't remember it and I don't know when I'm going to, so just give me a few answers."

Jack sat back, pressing the back of his head against the headrest of his seat. When several seconds went by without an answer, Ianto thought he wasn't going to get one.

"A few weeks," he finally said. "Maybe a month."

Ianto took a breath. Surprisingly, the answer didn't anger him. It bothered him, definitely, but maybe he was too tired to get angry, or maybe something inside of him realized that it was pointless to do so now. Getting angry wouldn't change anything.

"Was she good?"

"No." Jack straightened and turned his body so he could face him. "She wasn't you."

"And you're not just saying that to make me feel better? Because for the affair to last a month means there must have been something that kept drawing you back to her."

"I swear, I'm not telling a story when I say that she wasn't you." He pursed his lips in thought. "You know that sex toy that's shaped like a woman's pussy?"

Ianto was thrown off by the question. "What?"

"You know, its handle is like a flashlight but the top is soft and shaped like a woman's pussy so a man can—"

"I know what it is," he snapped. "Why are you asking?"

"Because fucking her was like fucking the fake pussy. It made me feel good for a short time, but then afterwards I felt nothing. There was no love, no passion, like the love and passion I feel whenever you and I slept together. When I say it was just sex with her, I'm not sugarcoating it. I'm not saying it just to make you feel better. I'm telling the truth."

"Then why did you still sleep with her if it meant nothing?"

"Because sleeping with her helped me forget I was a dick for fucking her in the first place. I know it doesn't make sense, but every time I was with her I felt so guilty for cheating on you, so I slept with her so I couldn't think about the guilt."

Ianto ate another chip, struggling to understand. "Why didn't you tell me? Instead of going back to her after the first time, why didn't you tell me that you slept with her?"

"I wanted to." Jack gave him a humorless smile. "I almost did, actually. But you were still giving me the cold shoulder about not attending one of your art shows and it seemed like the wrong time. The more I held off telling you, the more I felt guilty, so whenever Gwen suggested that we stay behind after hours, I agreed."

Ianto straightened. "Gwen suggested it?"

Jack cocked his head. "Yeah." He narrowed his eyes a little. "I don't think I ever told you that."

"Told me what?"

"That Gwen pursued me. I'm not trying to look blameless, but I didn't go after her. She's the one that made the first move, and every time afterwards she's the one that continued to do so."

Ianto looked down at his food. He resumed eating, unsure of what he should say next.

Jack let him eat, but he quietly said, "There are a lot of things I wished I told you. If I had spoken up about how I felt before the thing with Gwen, things might have been different."

Ianto frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you started becoming successful, I felt like I was being left behind. I was proud of you, but I just didn't understand a lot about the art world. You and I can both stare at the same painting about a little girl standing in front of her house, but while that's all I saw, you saw a message of victory that resulted in loneliness. It made me feel a bit insecure, and that increased every time I went with you to meet your artist friends and your art shows. All of you had so much in common and I felt kind of like an outsider." Jack sighed, running his hands over the steering wheel. "I should've told you how I was feeling, especially when you began to notice how I came up with excuses to avoid hanging out with your friends or go to your art shows, but I didn't want to stain your success and happiness with my issues. I didn't want to be selfish. So I stayed quiet." He rolled his eyes, looking rueful. "Which, in hindsight, was my first mistake."

Ianto watched Jack closely, seeing the irony in Jack's words. How many times had he thought Jack selfish for not paying attention? For not bothering to see if the annoyed looks or the few hours of silent treatment Ianto gave him were important enough for Jack to find out if he had done something wrong.

He wondered if the roles were reversed in this life. The affair aside, Jack seemed so affectionate and loving towards him, wanting him to get well and be happy. Had Ianto been the selfish one? His recent flash of memory indicated that he had let his rising success in the art world go to his head, so maybe in this life Ianto had been the one not paying enough attention.

It was mind boggling to learn that Ianto's own personality and quirks might be different as well in this life.

"What kind of man am I here? Personality-wise. I'm a bit of an introvert in my Torchwood life."

"Introvert?" Jack snorted, rueful expression vanishing. He actually looked amused now. "You're outgoing. You like going to parties and don't mind being the center of attention, and you have so many friends that small dinner parties usually result in about twenty people. You have a short-fuse, though, and when you're pissed you don't hold back. Actually, you don't hold back on practically anything. You're not afraid to speak your mind, and that tends to get you in trouble sometimes whenever you decide that someone needs to hear your opinion, even if it isn't a flattering one."

Ianto gaped. "I don't do that!"

"Yes, you do."

Ianto wanted to deny it again, but then he paused, reminded of how he had been told of how he used blunt honesty to get through to Tosh about the unlikelihood of having a romantic relationship with Owen. "Shit," he said.

"You can be a self-centered, too."

"Okay, now you're just turning me into an arsehole."

Jack laughed. "Just speaking the truth." He smiled at Ianto. "But you care about those you call friends and family. You're fiercely loyal and protective, too, even towards me. When my ex-wife found out about us and accused me of taking advantage of you, you went off on her." He chuckled a little, his eyes going a bit out of focus as he seemed recall an amusing memory. "You're an animal lover, and that's one of the reasons why we even have a dog. You found a stray one day and decided to bring him home, and stood your ground when I suggested we take him to the nearest animal shelter. You're also very passionate about your paintings. You can spend hours in your studio just painting, ignoring everything else around you. It's a beautiful sight."

Bloody hell, Jack's eyes were practically _glowing_. It made his heart squeeze with how much emotion Jack put into his words as he spoke about him. "What else?" Ianto didn't much care about more details. Selfishly, he just wanted to keep that glowing look on Jack's face.

And Jack told him so many things. Ianto had worked at a restaurant before his paintings started selling, he had discovered he was bisexual when he was fifteen after experimenting with his girlfriend's brother, he had a fondness for vintage cars, he once met the Queen and made a fool of himself after spilling his drink on her dress, and he loved to experiment in the kitchen.

One of his creative dishes had actually sent Jack to the hospital for food poisoning.

"Seriously? What did I put in it?"

Jack laughed. "I have no clue. Half the time you brought home these exotic fruits and vegetables and just threw them in the pan. I guess that's what happens when you marry someone who's creative."

"Creativity makes life exciting," Ianto pointed out.

"Yeah, until someone ends up in the hospital."

"Touché." Ianto chuckled. "But even you have to admit that it's fun being married to someone who doesn't settle for dullness."

"Very true." Jack looked at him with a soft smile.

It struck Ianto on how normal this all seemed. There they were, just talking, and there wasn't anything they had to worry about. They were just two normal ordinary men dealing with normal problems. Even schizophrenia was a normal problem compared to the problems Ianto had usually dealt with at Torchwood (even though Ianto would take Torchwood over schizophrenia any day).

"Let me show you something." Jack lowered the visor, revealing pinned photographs. He grabbed one and handed it to Ianto. "That's the day of our wedding."

Ianto examined the photo. Jack and he were in each other's arms, wearing tuxes and grinning wide. His heart ached at the visible evidence of a life with this man.

Why hadn't his Jack been like this?

"You're sad."

Ianto looked up from the photo. "What?"

"You're sad," Jack repeated. "I didn't give you the picture to make you sad."

"I'm not sad. I'm just—" He fingered the photo. "I want Torchwood back. I want it to be real." He tightened his lips. "But I kind of want you to be real, too. Just you."

Jack smiled sadly. "Can I hold you?"

Ianto blinked. "Why are you asking? You held me earlier in the tourist center."

"I know, but you were vulnerable and in pain. Yesterday you didn't even want me to touch you, and now that you aren't about to get hysterical, I'm not sure if you're going to appreciate my touch."

Jack had a point. Ianto handed back the photo. "You can, if you answer one question."

Jack glanced at him warily as he pinned the photo back on the visor. "All right."

"What's my favorite flower?"

Jack blinked. "You're favorite flower?"

"Yep. My favorite flower." He wasn't even sure if he liked flowers in this life, but if he did he knew deep down that it would be tiger lilies. His mother used to plant them in the backyard when everything had still been good, and from the sounds of things, his past with his family was the same in either life.

Jack gave him a narrow-eyed look, as if he had asked a trick question and Jack was trying to figure out what the trick was. "Tiger lilies," he answered slowly.

Ianto smiled. "Good answer." He slid over and grabbed one of Jack's arms to wrap around him. Jack got the hint and wrapped his other arm around him as well.

Ianto closed his eyes. It was comforting being held like this. He knew he would have to deal with everything that happened today, but not yet. He was just going to lean against Jack for a little while and enjoy being in the arms of a man who loved him.

* * *

><p>Jack returned him to Whittier two hours later.<p>

The irony was bitter. He had escaped to save himself, only to find alarming proof that everyone else had been right about Torchwood.

Ianto tensed as Jack drove pass the gate and into the visitor parking lot, sinking a bit in his seat. "Jack."

"It's okay." Jack put a hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly as he used the other hand to steer the wheel and park the car in an empty slot. "You're not going to be put in isolation."

Jack got out of the car, but Ianto didn't move until Jack opened his door and reached his side. Seeing the hand approaching the buckle of his seatbelt spurred him into action. He may be feeling vulnerable and lost, but that didn't mean he needed to be treated like a child. He got out of the car himself.

He did, however, clench Jack's hand tightly as they walked towards the hospital building. "What if they isolate me after you leave?"

"They won't. I'm coming back to see you tomorrow and if they put you in isolation, you tell me and I'll deal with it."

As they entered the building, all Ianto wanted to do was turn right back around and leave, afraid he would never see the outside world again. Ianto didn't want to repeat his family's history by dying in the mental hospital.

They slowly made their way to the lounge, and as soon as a nurse saw them, she quickly went to get the doctors.

"Ianto," Yates said, sounding relieved as he met them by the nurses' station with Owen in tow. "Do you realize how worried you've made us? Where did you go?"

"A better question is how he managed to escape in the first place, Dr. Yates." Jack's voice was cold and hard, the same tone of voice he would use when faced with a Torchwood enemy. "I pay a lot of money to get Ianto the best treatment there is, and I had thought that paying such a large sum would ensure Ianto's safety. He could've got hurt out there."

Owen accepted the criticism stoically. "We apologize, Mr. Harkness. We'll keep a better eye on him."

That didn't seem to appease Jack much. "He shouldn't have been out there in the first place."

"Agreed. We'll up the security, ensure his freedom is restricted—"

Ianto tensed, seeing himself in a straitjacket and being placed on the third floor. Jack released his hand to hug him close. It was odd and completely unexpected to have Jack be so protective and in tuned to Ianto's moods. His Torchwood memories contained a more ruthless Jack who couldn't read Ianto at all and rarely indulged in any kind of show of protectiveness.

It was nice change.

"I don't want his freedom restricted," Jack snapped. "I didn't bring him here to become a prisoner."

"We have certain protocols—"

"I don't care. I can easily file a lawsuit for letting this happen."

Ianto's brows rose at the implied threat, but he kept quiet. If it kept him out of a straitjacket, he was all for Jack threatening the hospital. Yates and Owen glanced at each other, and Ianto knew what they were thinking. A lawsuit might not hold up in court, but it would certainly bring Whittier some negative publicity that they probably didn't want.

"Besides," Jack continued smoothly, "his escape helped him more than any of you had done in the past several days."

The doctors looked at Ianto with confusion, but Jack merely gave him an encouraging and supportive smile. Ianto used his free hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a bit wary about revealing his discovery. It felt like he was given them more ammunition to use against him despite the fact that Ianto was the one who hadn't found the one thing that would have proven his argument about Torchwood's existence.

"I went in search of the Hub," he finally said. "It wasn't there."

"And?"

Ianto hesitated at Jack's prompting, but he quietly admitted, "And I've been having flashes. I remember saving Tosh, and the black eye I gave Owen. I remember things from my personal life here, like threatening Gwen Cooper." He released a shaky breath. "I think I'm starting to remember."

* * *

><p>Ianto sat on his bed, back against the headboard and journal open in his lap. He had forgotten about his journal until he had stumbled upon it beneath his bed when he had kneeled down to retrieve a pencil that had rolled under it. He wondered how it had ended up down there in the first place.<p>

Reading it, it was surreal to read passages in his own handwriting that contained information about the mental hospital, his illness, and personal details and secrets that Ianto knew he hadn't written in the journal he owned in his Torchwood memories. With the journal he currently held in his hands, it was obvious that he had held nothing back. His emotions, whether positive or negative, were clear for a reader to catch with every word.

In any case, reading through the passages helped him see that while he had struggled with accepting his illness, he had eventually come to terms with it. Every time he relapsed, there were pages filled with confusion, uncertainty, denials, but eventually they all ended with acceptance. It looked exhausting to go through that same cycle again and again, but from what he had been told, it was a cycle he didn't remember repeating until he snapped out of his delusions, and there were several ideas in his journal as to why he continued to stop taking the pills, and all his theories eventually led to one simple and obvious conclusion: he didn't want to depend on pills for the rest of his life.

There was just something off-putting about having to take medications until the day he died, to always depend on them to make sure his mental stability stayed, well, stable. No matter how normal a life he lived, the medications would always serve as a reminder that there was something wrong with him, that his perfectly normal life was a façade that could go wrong if he even so much as skipped a day of taking his prescribed medications.

It wasn't fair.

He looked up when Tosh entered his room. She smiled at him, but the brightness was somewhat overshadowed by the worry on her face.

"I'm not falling apart," he said before she could ask any questions about his well-being. He returned to his journal. "I want to, but falling apart will probably result in me being sedated." He already had his mini crisis back at the tourist center earlier; there was no need to have an encore in front of an audience.

"Glad to see you're not falling apart," Tosh said as she approached the bed. She bounced on it before lying down on her side, propping her head up on her hand. "But you're obviously not too dandy, are you?"

"No." Ianto glanced over his journal. "I'm sure Yates and Owen are throwing a little party over the fact that I might have been wrong about Torchwood."

"They're worried, actually. I overheard them talking, trying to figure out who should talk to you tomorrow."

"I'm surprised they haven't tried to talking to me yet."

Soon after revealing that he might be remembering his life (which was the closest that Ianto could get to admitting that he might have been wrong about everything), Yates and Owen had wanted to sit him down and talk, but Jack had intervened and said they could do that after his departure. Ianto suspected that the only reason why the doctors hadn't forced the issue was because of the implied threat of a lawsuit. Jack had stayed with him until visiting hours ended, and Ianto had been waiting for either Owen or Yates to whisk him to one of their offices for an unscheduled session.

"They never have sessions this late. They have their own lives to deal with." Tosh eyed him. "But really, how are you?"

"I don't know. Struggling would probably be the best way to describe it."

She reached out with one hand and clasped his knee, offering him comfort. "I know you're having a hard time, but you'll be fine."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that." Disgusted, he dislodged Tosh's hand by getting out of bed before he began to pace. "I'm not going to be _fine_. Admitting that Torchwood is nonexistent only means that I have schizophrenia and that I inherited it from my bloody mother. It means I might kill someone if I ever decide to get off my meds."

He _was_ off his meds, had been for the past few days. Not taking them was what put him in this kind of a mess in the first place, with his memories clashing, his brain telling him one thing while his gut was telling him another. And never mind his heart, which still loved Captain Harkness but was completely satisfied with Professor Harkness. And despite all of that, he s_till_ wasn't sure if taking the pills was the right choice of action.

No doubt about it, he was one confused, messed up bastard.

"You may have made your peace with your illness, Tosh, but I haven't." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "Not while I still see myself as a Torchwood operative and can perfectly recall how schizophrenia affected my mother."

"Having schizophrenia doesn't mean you're going to turn out like her. She was sick and needed help, but didn't get it as soon as she should've." She grimaced. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Jack loves you enough to do right by you, even if it means keeping you in a mental hospital."

"So, what, my father didn't love my mother enough to put her in an institution?"

"He waited until she nearly killed you to put her in a hospital. You told me that there were signs prior to that."

Ianto hadn't realized there had been signs, not until he did his research about the mental disease. His father, for whatever reason, had chosen to pretend that she had fine until he had been forced to face facts that she needed help.

"But I don't want to be crazy, Tosh." Ianto returned to the bed and sat down. He grabbed his journal and held in his hands tightly. "I don't want that kind of a burden."

"It's a heavy burden to carry," Tosh said quietly, scooting closer until she could wrap her slim arms around him, "but so long as Jack is there you'll be—" She cleared her throat. "You'll survive."

Ianto's lips quirked, and he tilted his head until it leaned against hers. "Thanks."

"For?"

"For not saying I'll be fine."

Tosh laughed softly and kissed his temple. "What are best friends for?"

* * *

><p>It was right after breakfast when Ianto found himself sitting across from Yates in the psychiatrist's office. Ianto was mildly surprised that his session wouldn't be with Owen. He had expected it because he thought Owen would want first crack at him to find out if Ianto still believe he was an alien.<p>

Honestly, Ianto wasn't sure what to do about Owen. He was a unique situation when compared to the others. While he still had trouble with the differences in Tosh and Jack, neither one had been left as a zombie the way Owen had been. It would take some getting used to before he could accept Owen as a man who wasn't the walking undead. Maybe once he did, he could get used to the personality switch.

For now, he was stuck with Yates, but Ianto was actually willing to sit on the couch and talk rather than argue like he had done before. He needed all the help he could get to put everything to rights before Ianto had a nervous breakdown.

"So," Yates said once he settled in his chair, "you're remembering."

"I said I _think_ I'm remembering. I'm still not sure what's going on so I'm going to stick with I 'think' rather than pretend to be certain about it." Ianto rubbed his thighs, feeling nervous for some odd reason. "I didn't even know what they were at first. They were just flashes, not quite detailed or very long. But now they're a little more vivid and occurring more often." He paused, considering if he should admit everything. To willingly sit in front of a psychiatrist and talk wasn't his most favorite things to do, but if he was going to prevent a nervous breakdown, he knew he had to be open and honest. "I had a flash of memory last night before I went to bed. In it, I was throwing a tantrum here, and I threw my food and was out of control for a while. Did that really happen?"

"It wasn't really your first day here," Yates said, which was pretty much his way of saying yes, that Ianto's memory of acting like a child really had occurred. If Yates noticed how mortified Ianto was at the confirmation, he didn't say anything about it. "That had happened after your second relapse, and just like every time you relapsed you didn't believe it when you were told that you're schizophrenic."

Yates tapped the end of his pen against his notebook. Ianto was beginning to think it was one of Yates's habits to accompany the pensive look on his face. "But let's talk about your outing yesterday."

"You mean how I escaped and couldn't find the Hub? No need to sugarcoat it."

"Well, then, let's talk how you feel about it."

Ianto hesitated. "It was dreadful." Complete understatement, and by the slight quirk in Yates's eyebrows, he realized it as well. Ianto plowed on. "I pinned everything on finding it. Everything I needed to save everyone was there. There's really no way to describe that feeling of not finding the one thing that would have proved me right." He glanced down at his hands, the scrapes still visible but no longer fresh. "I think now my biggest problem is admitting that I'm mentally sick."

"So you admit that Torchwood doesn't exist."

"If you're expecting me to fully embrace Torchwood's nonexistence, you're in for a long wait. I get it, there's no Hub. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Then what's the problem?"

Ianto tightened his lips. "Because Torchwood gave me meaning. It was a part of my identity. Hell, that's how I introduced myself a number of times. Ianto Jones, Torchwood." He fell silent for a moment, remembering the first time he had said those words to an ignorant constable who had tried to keep him out of a crime scene. It had been a proud moment, one that had occurred during the months of Jack's absence. "What meaning does this life give me? Ianto Jones, artist." He grimaced. "Doesn't quite have the same impact, does it?"

"You have meaning here in this life. You have a husband, a thriving career that most artists your age would kill for, and a bright future ahead of you."

"I don't remember most of it." He struggled to find a way to explain it so Yates would be able to understand what he was talking about. "I don't know who I am in this life, what kind of a person I am. The only things I do know are things that I've been told about me. But Torchwood? I lived it, breathed it, and my memories feel as real as you and me. I can't dismiss that life like it's nothing, not even without the Hub to back me up."

Studying the doctor's face, Ianto thought that the older man was starting to understand his inner turmoil. "I can't accept everything overnight," Ianto said. "Maybe once I remember more, I'll be able to accept it more easily, but right now I need time to adjust and come to terms with it and everything else I learned." He paused. "I need time to come to terms with the fact that I might be schizophrenic."

"I know that, Ianto. I'm not here to rush you."

"Really?" Ianto was incredulous, considering how pushy he had been since Ianto first woke up in the hospital. "Because you and Owen were pretty insistent that I give up Torchwood's access codes, remember?"

"That's different. We wanted you to see that Torchwood didn't exist, and now that you seem to be heading in that direction, we're willing to let you adjust at your own pace. No one is asking you to rush things. There's a process involved and that will take time." Yates studied him. "But you bring up a good point. I still stand by what I said concerning the power the access codes have over you.

"I'm not giving them up now."

"I don't need all of them to be said right now, this minute, but we can start with one and take it from there. So long as you are no longer resistant to the possibility that Torchwood doesn't exist, we can start slow." Yates flipped through the notebook that had been sitting on his lap. He finally stopped at a page. "You told me that there are six access codes, and that in order for them to be used against Torchwood they have to be entered into Torchwood's mainframe in a certain order to grant access." Yates looked up. "Give me one code. You don't have to tell me if it's the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, or sixth code. Just say one at random."

Ianto clenched his hands. He wasn't totally surprised by Yates's knowledge about the access codes needing to be used in a particular order. His journal was filled with descriptions of his sessions with either doctor. There was no doubt that Ianto had opened his mouth and told Yates about it.

It was a simple request, really, with no Hub to worry about, and Yates was right about the codes needing to be inserted in a certain order. Anyone who tried to enter the sequence of numbers and letters only had three chances to enter the codes correctly before the mainframe released an alert about the person's attempts and put the entire Hub on lockdown.

He licked his lips. "Just one?"

"Just one. It'll be useless without the others, wouldn't it? And," Yates added, "as you saw yesterday, there's no Hub in the Plass for me to access to begin with."

No one, not friend or foe, could really do anything with one code. And if the access codes was his ticket to getting out of there then his resistance seemed to only increase his chances of becoming a permanent Whittier resident.

Just one access code. Just one. "168NS239," Ianto said slowly, nearly stuttering when the last number was spoken.

It had taken more courage than he thought possible to reveal the code, and he wasn't much surprised to feel guilt bubble inside of him, not when he could still clearly remember the serious expression on Jack's face when he told him to never tell anyone the codes.

"Okay?" Yates asked softly.

Ianto lifted his gaze and thought about the question. Was he okay? He wasn't sure. Alongside the guilt was worry, fright, confusion—

_"Angry," Ianto spat. "Angry and upset and murderous and—and—" Ianto wasn't sure how else to describe his feelings. He hated everyone. The doctors, the nurses, the orderlies, the patients, and Jack. Especially Jack. He wanted to return to London and continue to live his life as an artist, not be stuck in a mental hospital in Cardiff that his own husband, a man that had promised to help him, put him in. _

_"I know you're angry," Yates said soothingly._

_Ianto scowled. "Don't patronize me!"_

_"I'm not patronizing you. This is a place where you're free to express your anger. That's why we have these sessions, so everything you feel isn't bottled up inside."_

_"Believe me, I'm not the kind to bottle anything up." Ianto had a temper, much like a lot of artists. Something about their creative juices making them temperamental, and Ianto had never been afraid to let anyone know when he was furious._

_"Not your anger, clearly, but it doesn't mean you don't bottle other emotions up. Like hurt? Pain?"_

_Yates was looking at him so intently, Ianto had to turn away. Yes, he was hurt and felt pain. He had caught his husband cheating on him, and now the bastard had put him in a hospital against his wishes. A mental hospital! Ianto didn't need to be institutionalized, damn it. He had allowed Jack back into their home to help him, and Jack betrayed him yet again by going behind his back and having him committed._

_But his pain was his business. "I just want to go home."_

_"And you will, but not until you get a handle on your mental illness."_

_"I don't have a mental illness! I'm not sick." Ianto's chest hurt. He knew he was in denial, but he was so desperate to not be seen as someone who was crazy that he was afraid to accept the awful truth. "I just have a very active imagination, and sometimes they get away from me. That's it." Even he knew it was a lame and completely stupid explanation, but it was the only one he had._

_Yates shook his head, green his eyes filled with sympathy. "No, Ianto. You have schizophrenia, but I promise you that it doesn't mean that you'll be in here forever. You'll go home one day—when you're better and your delusions are under control—and you'll be living your life once more."_

"Hopeful," Ianto answered as the memory swam through his mind. He had been so angry, so upset, but Yates's words had sparked hope deep inside, and that hope was returning, blooming in his chest and spreading all through his body. "I feel hopeful."

And it was that hope that gave him the strength and courage to swallow the pills Yates handed him thirty minutes later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I am so, so, so, SO very sorry for my mini disappearance. Even though I had revised the story twice before posting the first chapter, I was still revising every time I posted because there's only so many times I can stare at a word document before I start missing all the mistakes, and as I was posting I came to realize that I didn't like the way the next few chapters were written so I ended up heavily revising them, more so than the previous chapters. I thought about adding a note here in the story to let you all know what was happening, but I hadn't expected it to take this long to finish. It just wasn't supposed to take this long, but I do hope you forgive me for leaving you hanging without any reasons for my short absence, especially after saying that the chapters would be updated daily.

Since the story was supposed to finish on Saturday, and as my way of saying sorry, I decided to just post the rest of the chapters all at once. Thanks so much for all the comments, and especially a big thanks for your patience.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight<p>

The pills hadn't done much. Ianto thought that as soon as he swallowed down the pills, he would snap out of the delusion and remember who he was. While a lot more memories returned, he still felt like a Torchwood operative who was floundering over two separate lives. Owen and Yates expressed their concerns that the minimal effectiveness of his meds might mean that they needed to up his dosage.

Bloody brilliant. More pills.

For now, Ianto rejected the idea. He didn't want to take more pills, and he was doing all right in terms of his memories. He might not remember everything, but at least his memories were returning, even if they were coming back gradually. That was good enough for now.

Some memories were pleasant, such as the memory of the first time he had sold a painting. Other memories weren't as pleasant, like the memories of the first few painful days after he had kicked Jack out of their home for cheating on him. But despite all the bad memories, the good memories did prove that he and Jack had had a very happy marriage, and each memory that resurfaced helped him piece together a life that was pretty damn good.

* * *

><p><em>"Let's get married," Jack murmured.<em>

_Ianto blinked, staring down at him. "Excuse me?"_

_"Let's get married." _

_Ianto sputtered. "We can't do that! It's not legal here. Hell, the public barely tolerates civil partnerships."_

_Jack smiled at him. "I know it's not legal here, which is why I suggest we buy wedding bands and go someplace where gay marriage is legal."_

_"I . . ." Ianto stared at him, waiting for the punch line. "Are you serious?"_

_"I've never been more serious in my life, Ianto. Marry me."_

_Ianto climbed off Jack's lap and turned, giving him his back. Marriage? He wasn't sure if that was such a good idea. He loved Jack with all his heart, but he had never thought Jack would want to make such a commitment. Ianto was only twenty-one, and while they've been together for almost two years, a good chunk of the twenty-three months they had together had been spent keeping their relationship hidden from the university. They had finally exposed their relationship soon after Ianto graduated, which hadn't been too long ago. _

_And did Jack really want marriage? How could he want to marry someone several years his junior? Never before had Ianto felt so young._

_ "Ianto?" He felt the bed move and a kiss was bestowed on his bare shoulder._

_"We barely know each other."_

_"How can you say that? You know everything about me and I know everything about you."_

_"But we've only been together for two years. How is that enough time for anyone to _really_ get to know another person?"_

_Jack grabbed his shoulders and urged him to turn around until they were facing each other. Jack cupped his face in his hands. "What's really bugging you?"_

_Ianto swallowed. "We've been doing well with our relationship, but think of the obstacles. I'm younger than you and we're both men. How can we make a marriage work, especially in a continent that won't acknowledge it?"_

_"I know about the obstacles and I don't care. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of you."_

_"And who's to say you won't get sick of me? I'm only twenty-one, still practically a child according to some." When Jack's ex-wife had found out that he was the new boyfriend after they had gone to visit her home so Jack could introduce Ianto to their son, those had been her exact words to them. She had even tried to manipulate Jack by using his adolescent son against him, suggesting that Jack think about their son before taking his relationship with Ianto any further. _

_"If anyone should worry about the age difference, it's me. I'm the old man robbing the cradle. Who's to say you won't leave me once I start sporting grey hairs?"_

_Ianto snorted. "I would never leave you."_

_"Neither would I." Jack grinned and pressed their forehead together. "Ianto, I want you in my life. I want to call you my husband. I want us to have that happily ever after."_

_"You really want to?" Ianto bit his lip for a moment. "You won't regret it?"_

_"Never." Jack kissed him, and Ianto's resistance melted like butter. "Ianto Jones, will you marry me?"_

_"Yes," he breathed, and then he laughed. "Yes!"_

"Ianto?"

Ianto jerked out of the flashback. He blinked up from his drawing. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Owen shook his head, but he was smiling. "I asked what you were drawing."

"Oh." Ianto glanced down at his sketchbook. It was a partial drawing of Myfanwy, soaring through the air within the Hub. "Just something from Torchwood."

Owen took the seat across from him. Ianto eyed him, considering telling Owen to leave him alone. Jack was going to visit any minute and Ianto was looking forward to that and didn't want anything to upset him. So far, anything Owen had said had upset him.

"I see you and Jack are spending time together," Owen said.

"Why wouldn't we? He's my husband and he's leaving soon."

"Not too long ago you thought it was all a lie."

"I thought a lot of things were a lie not too long ago."

Owen smiled, doing a poor job of hiding it behind the hand he had brought up to cover it. "Still look at me as an alien?"

"You could still be an alien." There was no heat behind his words, though. He didn't want to rehash the alien argument.

"You're stubborn, you know that?"

"So I've been told." Ianto returned to his drawing. "Where's Tosh?" Tosh and Owen seemed attached at the hip lately, and Ianto knew it was because Tosh actively sought him out whenever she could.

"Her mother came to visit. She's spending time with her."

"You do realize that Tosh has a crush on you, right?" Ianto glanced up before using the tip of a pinkie to shade a side of Myfanwy's wing. He hadn't realized how much he had missed drawing, or how soothing it was to concentrate on shades and angles. His sketches weren't of high quality as the other drawings found in the sketchbook, but he figured that was because he was trying too hard to apply techniques he had learned in the past, techniques he knew only because he remembered learning them. Even though he knew the techniques in his mind, right now they weren't transferring properly to his fingers.

"Yes, I know she has a crush on me."

"Then why do you keep leading on her on? She thinks you're going to ask her out as soon as she gets out of here."

"I've told her more than once that I'm her doctor, but she has her own mind. She is strong-willed, and will believe what she wants to believe until she realizes the truth on her own." Owen brushed some lint off the sleeve of his coat. "Besides, Tosh's crush on me has more to do with my being her doctor than her actually liking me."

Ianto looked up with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"I believe Sigmund Freud said it best when he described it as transference. When we're having our sessions, the environment in my office is seen as safe, supportive, and nurturing. Tosh looks at me and sees someone who is accepting and positive, and someone who's like an authoritative guide. Because of that, I step into roles that have previously been occupied in her life by one of her parents, like her father."

"So she wants you to be her father?" Ianto asked dubiously, more than a little bit disturbed by the idea that his best friend was practically in love with the doctor only because he reminded her of her father.

"Not really. She thinks that what she feels are romantic feelings, but she sees me more as a father figure, someone who listens to her and supports her, but who gives her authority when she needs it." Owen shrugged. "But then there's also the possibility that she's more infatuated by what she sees as an endless supply of wisdom and positive self-regard that I exhibit, and it's as intoxicating as falling in love for the first time."

"Wow, now that wasn't vain at all."

Owen's lips trembled, and Ianto held back his own smile at the obvious attempt Owen made to not laugh. It was weird how they were actually sharing a joke with each other, like they were friends or something.

"I only repeat what I've read in my psychology books," Owen assured him. "Anyway, Tosh's world has been narrowed down to this hospital, and spending one full hour with me with my complete undivided attention can be comparable to being godlike."

"Why does this happen?"

"No one knows. It just happens." Owen cocked his head and leaned forward, and Ianto realized he was trying to see his drawing. "I'm waiting for her to tell me so we can deal with it. I've had to deal with transference before and find it best for patients to tell me bluntly how they feel so I can address it." Owen smiled at him. "I'm good at what I do. I'll take care of her."

"So you don't have any feelings for her," Ianto stated rather than asked. As Owen continued to try and see his drawing, Ianto drew it closer to his chest. He wasn't sure how open he usually was to showing his sketches to strangers, but at the moment he was very uncomfortable at showing it to anyone.

"I don't have any romantic feelings for her." Denied the opportunity to see Ianto's drawing, Owen sat back. "The only feelings I have are strictly professional."

Ianto was relieved. Tosh was nearly obsessed with Owen and he had worried that the doctor would hurt her with his rejection, but if all Tosh felt was transference, then she would be okay once she realized that she felt nothing for Owen.

"You really do care, don't you?"

Owen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Owen—Torchwood Owen—is a bastard. He's so cynical and borderline cruel sometimes. I mean, he has a good heart, but he doesn't really show it, and it's hard to view him as a good person."

"I always did think you turned me into a bastard in your delusions because of how you felt about the situation with Tosh and me," Owen mused.

Ianto returned to his drawing. "Maybe, I guess."

He stayed silent for a couple of minutes, concentrating on his drawing. He could feel Owen watching him, and he wondered what analysis Owen was coming up with. Ianto supposed he was calmer, although he wasn't sure if that was because he was actually adjusting to this life or because he was tired of fighting it.

If there was one bright spot it was definitely Jack. The support Jack gave him the day before went a long way to thawing him out, and Ianto was starting to leave the whole nasty affair of Jack and Gwen in the past, where it rightfully belonged. Jack was a good man who made a mistake, and Ianto preferred spending his time getting to know his husband instead of fuming over something he had already forgiven him for. It was a balm to his heart to have a Jack who actually cared about him and wasn't afraid to show it as opposed to a man who thought him as nothing more than a fuck.

"We fought."

"What?" Owen sounded quizzical.

Ianto kept his eyes on his drawing, unsure how or even why that tiny confession had left his mouth. He hadn't meant to say anything. Damn, when did he become such a talker about his personal issues? He probably talked more in the past several days than he had in the last few years. It must be the environment he was in. With so many things bombarding his mind, there was only so much he could keep inside without exploding.

Ianto cleared his throat. "Never mind."

"Come now, Ianto. What did you mean by 'we fought'?" When Ianto remained silent, Owen tapped the table to get his attention. "Do you trust me, Ianto?"

Ianto peered at him over the top of his sketchbook. "Not really."

"But you trust Yates. You gave him a code."

Ianto couldn't deny that, but guilt was still roiling in his stomach for even giving one way. A tiny part of him regretted it, actually, feeling that he had given in a bit too easily, but his guilt was overshadowed by logic. A single code couldn't do much, especially when there was no Hub to access in the first place, and not finding the Hub had drastically changed things.

He had tried so hard to hang onto Torchwood, to remain firm in his stance that his memories of Torchwood were real and not from a delusion, but without a Hub to back him up, what point was there to continue hanging on? What more was there for him to do? He had lost faith in what he had thought to be real, and the only thing that could assert that faith was a sign that proved Torchwood's existence. Ianto was just tired of looking for one.

There was only a sliver of hope left in him that somehow, someway, Torchwood existed out there. It was a strong sliver, but it was most definitely flickering.

Ianto chewed on his lip. He was about ninety-nine percent sure Owen wasn't an alien, and really, Owen couldn't do any harm by knowing the issues that rested between him and Torchwood Jack. Not anymore, at least.

"I fought with Jack," he finally said.

"Really? You two looked pretty happy yesterday."

"Not my husband Jack. Captain Jack, from Torchwood. Harkness, if it'll make things easier to separate the two." He lifted his head completely, pencil poised over his sketch but hand temporarily stilled. "Remember when you mentioned that this relapse was having a greater effect on me and if something happened in my delusion?" He continued only after Owen nodded. "I caught him jerking off to Gwen, or the image of her, and we fought about it. It got out of control and then he said I was a fling." He decided not to use the more crude adjective Harkness had chosen to refer to him as.

"And then what happened?"

"Nothing, because that's when the rift alert came on and we went to the park. Then I woke up here."

"I see." Owen crossed his arms and placed them on the table, thoughtful. "Gwen is a touchy subject for you."

"Obviously. She slept with my husband and she lusts after Harkness. But in Torchwood my issue isn't really with her because everyone lusts after Harkness. My issue is Harkness and his inability to see when he hurts me." Ianto was supposed to sigh, but the sound came out with so much aggravation in it that it was more akin to a growl. "He had the habit of making me feel like I was one more lover on top of dozens of others. I knew that I was, but I didn't want to feel it as well as know it, and I most certainly didn't want him to throw it in my face like that."

Owen mulled over Ianto's words. "That final argument with Jack—"

"Harkness," Ianto corrected. He didn't want the two Jacks confused.

"That final argument with Harkness," Owen amended, "might explain why you're having a difficult time accepting this as your life."

"What do you mean?"

"Subconsciously, you might want to make amends with Harkness."

"Amends?" Ianto's astonishment at the idea was probably written all over his face. If not, it was certainly in his voice, he could hear it. "What makes anyone think I'd like to make any kind of amends with that man?"

"All right, maybe amends isn't quite the word, but it's possible that a part of you doesn't want to let your delusion go until something is resolved between you and Harkness. You kept saying how Torchwood identified you, and Harkness played a huge role in that, didn't he? Something inside of you wants to know if any piece of your relationship could have survived, maybe even if something as simple friendship could've been possible between you two."

"Nothing is ever simple with Harkness." He thought over Owen's theory, frowning. "And it's a little pathetic, don't you think? For me to hang on to Harkness because I want to save our relationship?"

"It's not pathetic. Why does anyone still cling to a relationship even when it's no good?"

Ianto lowered his gaze. There was only one answer to that question: love.

A patient shouted, catching their attention. Ianto thought it was another scuffle, but it turned out to be the same patient who always watched that children's show with the talking trains. Ianto had learned his name was Rufus, whose mental illness made it difficult for him to hold adult conversations and who had been dropped off by a family who never came around to visit. Clearly the shout had been released with excitement, if the big grin was anything to go by.

"The love you feel for Harkness is the same love you feel for Jack," Owen continued. "Both men hurt you, but even though the issues you had with one were resolved, things are still left in the air with the other. Now that there's a way to get rid of Torchwood completely, you don't want to let go of that life until you get closure, just like you would want to get closure from any other relationship. It's especially difficult when your mind hasn't quite let go of the delusion you're in, and while you may have accepted Jack, Harkness is still real for you."

Ianto sighed and rubbed his temple, staring at his drawing of Myfanwy. He could still remember the night he and Harkness had caught her, recall vivid details of rolling on the ground until he had lay on top of Harkness. Even back then, there had been something between them. It had scared him, and if he hadn't had Lisa to think about, he would have run as far away from Harkness as possible because even back then a part of him knew that Harkness was a dangerous man to fall for.

It was odd to have two conflicting lives with two different men running around in his head, and he just wished he could somehow have the best of both worlds. Take out the schizophrenia and replace Harkness with Jack. Now _that_ would be the perfect life.

Owen eventually left him alone, and after finishing his drawing of Myfanwy and dropping off his sketchbook in his room, he made his way outside to stretch his legs. There wasn't much one could do in terms of exercise, so Ianto made use of the gardens to walk in so his leg muscles didn't become weak.

As he walked, he ignored Glyn's presence several feet behind him, following him silently. Glyn had been assigned to him as some sort of keeper to make sure Ianto didn't attempt to escape again. Not that Ianto was planning on doing so anytime so. Nothing good came out of his last escape.

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the pathway, all thoughts ceasing. Jack was back. No, not Jack—Harkness, complete with RAF coat and shorter hair. His heart fluttered for just one solid moment—until he remembered what had happened the last time he had seen Harkness in the hospital.

He turned to look at Glyn. He stayed rooted in his spot for one long minute, long enough for Glyn to approach him. Ianto didn't even wait for him to ask if he was okay before asking him, "Can you see him?"

Glyn blinked and looked in the direction Ianto was pointing at. "See who?"

"Captain Harkness."

Glyn cocked his head, but despite the fact that Harkness was visible to Ianto, Glyn shook his head in the negative. "No, sorry, I don't see anyone."

Harkness was as still as the last time Ianto had seen him, with his body frozen and a grin on his face. Yates said he was a hallucination, one that appeared when he was coming out of his delusions. His own personal reminder of Torchwood.

Ianto closed the distance between them until he was standing right in front of him. Ianto swallowed and closed his eyes briefly, thinking a moment. When he opened them, he said, "The last time I saw you, I thought you were a hologram, but my psychiatrist says you're a hallucination, so . . ."

Fuck, Ianto felt stupid talking to something that wasn't moving, but that sliver of hope was an annoying, persistent thing. If there was even a remote possibility that the image of Harkness was not a hallucination and was connected to Torchwood somehow, then he needed to say this.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I escaped yesterday to find the Hub, and it wasn't where it should be. That pretty much destroyed any chance of me proving that Torchwood is real. I don't know what to believe anymore." He paused and stared at Harkness's cheesy grin. "I haven't accepted this life yet. I'm not quite ready to admit that I may have some mental illness." He stepped closer and lowered his voice until it was just above a whisper. "But I stopped fighting it. Every time I tried, something would hit me right back and I'm a little exhausted of having my hopes crushed every time I think I figured it out. It feels as real as the life I have with Torchwood. I even started taking my meds and told one of my psychiatrists an access code. I know you said I shouldn't tell anyone about them, but there's no Hub to access so I feel like all I'm doing is keeping them secret for no reason at all." He huffed. "So if you can hear me, Harkness, you need to give me a sign that there's a good explanation for everything. Right now. Give me something, I don't care how, where, or what, but you need to give me something that tells me that Torchwood is real and is working on a way to help me. If not . . ." He trailed off.

He waited.

Harkness didn't move.

He didn't know how long he waited, but a hand on his shoulder drew him out of his staring contest. He glanced at Glyn, and the look in his eyes was enough to let him know that Glyn had heard everything. Glyn didn't say anything, and Ianto shrugged, tightening his lips and looking back at Harkness.

Harkness eventually vanished, leaving no trace he was ever there.

"He's gone," he murmured.

"I'm assuming Jack didn't give you the sign you were asking for."

"Harkness." When Glyn gave him a curious look, Ianto shrugged. "It's easier to refer to the Jack in my delusions as Harkness. That way, everyone knows which Jack is being talked about whenever his name is mentioned." He sighed heavily. "And no, he didn't give me a sign. He just stood there, grinning."

Was he disappointed? Yes, he was, but he wasn't much surprised, either.

Flicking a glance over the orderly's shoulder, he caught sight of Jack striding towards them. His mood lightened at the mere sight of Jack, and he cocked a brow at Glyn. "Are you required to be my keeper even when I'm with my husband?"

Glyn snorted, but took the hint and left, nodding at Jack when they passed by each other. Ianto accepted the kiss Jack bestowed on his cheek, although he was a bit disappointed that Jack hadn't kissed him on the lips. He figured that Jack was holding back, keeping that kind of affection between them chaste and minimal to avoid upsetting Ianto.

"I have something for you." Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out what looked like a handkerchief. On closer inspection, Ianto realized that the handkerchief was wrapped around something. "I had to remove the chain, but I asked one of your doctors and he said that you could keep it with you."

Ianto accepted the item and unfolded the handkerchief. It was a stopwatch. He gasped softly when he realized it was the same stopwatch he had referred to when he had propositioned Harkness over Suzie's twice-dead body. He caressed the face of the stopwatch with a thumb.

"I don't know if you remember," Jack said, "but you would carry that thing everywhere. It was the first thing I ever gave you and you cherish it like its gold or something."

"I'm not surprised." He really wasn't. Hadn't he done the same thing with the stopwatch Harkness had handed him? Talk about connections between delusions and reality. He looked up at Jack. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed. I have fond memories of it myself." Jack snickered. "We almost broke it one time during one of our more vigorous fucks." Ianto laughed, and Jack's snicker changed to a loving smile. "And to match that stopwatch, you gave me this." Jack took out another stopwatch, different in design. "It was a gag gift for our first anniversary." He grimaced. "But your delivery left a lot to be desired."

"What do you mean?"

Jack put his stopwatch back in his pocket. Ianto followed suit, putting his stopwatch into the pocket of his robe, fingers lingering fondly. He knew he would take care of it.

Jack grabbed his hand, a few tugs transmitting his silent suggestion that they walk. As they began to do so, Jack answered his question. "I forgot our first anniversary."

Ianto's brows rose. "Are you serious?"

"I was stressed because of work, and I'm ashamed to admit that it slipped my mind." Jack paused and picked up a tiger lily from a garden bed, playing with its stem as they resumed walking. "Imagine my horror when I walked into our home close to midnight and found a lovely dinner set up that was ruined, and an irate husband fuming in the bedroom. I barely managed to say a hello before a box hit me in the forehead, which turned out to have my stopwatch inside of it."

Ianto snorted, imagining himself doing so. From what he could remember of this life and from what everyone was telling him, throwing something at Jack in a fit of anger wasn't all that shocking to hear. "Out of all the dates to forget," Ianto said while shaking his head, "you had to forget about our anniversary. Our _first _anniversary."

"Hey, it was the one and only time I've ever forgotten something that important." Jack chuckled and handed Ianto the tiger lily. Ianto took a quick sniff of the flower as he held it in his free hand while Jack continued to talk. "You were so furious that after you kicked me out of the bedroom, you locked yourself in. I slept on the couch and woke up with an aching back."

"How long did it take for me to forgive you?"

"What makes you think you did?"

"I assume that since we've managed to stay married for over three years that I forgave you for your lack of intelligence that night."

"Point," Jack said with a chuckle. "It took a couple of days. Nothing I did or said made you happy for those forty-eight hours. It wasn't until I got down on my knees and groveled that you forgave me."

Ianto laughed. "You didn't."

"I wasn't talking figuratively, sweetheart. I literally got down on my knees and groveled about being the stupidest man there ever was. Ten minutes later, we were having make-up sex on the dining room table."

"Did we break the table?"

"No, but it did move a few inches." He winked. "I measured."

Ianto chuckled. "We must have a vigorous sex life."

"We sure as hell do. One of the advantages of being married to someone younger than me is the fast recovery time."

"So _that's_ why you married me."

"It was definitely one of the pros in my books." Jack lifted Ianto's hand to kiss his knuckles. "And I'd marry you again in a heartbeat."

Ianto smiled, feeling a bit shy. "I, um, remember."

"Remember what?"

"Our wedding. I remembered it last night." It had been a beautiful ceremony, small and private. Very few people had been there, but there had been one person who had stood out among the guests. "And I remember seeing your son there. Junior, right?"

Jack smiled proudly. "Yep. Jack Harkness Jr."

Ianto had heard a lot of stories about Jack Harkness Jr., aka Junior, but Junior rarely showed up in his memories. Junior lived with Jack's ex in Norway and visits were few and far in between. Even though Jack had told him that he and Junior had a great relationship, Ianto hadn't expected to recall a memory that had Junior at their wedding.

"He looks exactly like you."

"Doesn't he? I think it irks my ex just a little to have Junior as a spitting image of me."

"Does Junior know I'm in here?"

Jack shook his head. "You didn't want him to know. The couple of times he's visited, I've told him you're on a trip. He's twelve, though, so he knows something is off. He even asked me if you were all right, but I told him everything is okay." Jack stopped walking and wrapped an arm around him. "I'm sure he expects to see you the next time he visits, though, so you'll probably have to tell him soon."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want to associate with someone who's crazy," Ianto muttered.

"Stop that," Jack demanded, though his voice was soft. "You and Junior get along great, and he likes you despite my ex's bad poison. He may have a bit of trouble understanding, but he's a good boy and he'll know you're still Ianto Jones, his daddy's husband."

"But what if he doesn't understand?" Ianto didn't know why, but Junior's opinion mattered. He didn't want to scare the boy away, especially if that meant driving him away from Jack.

"Then we'll deal with it." He cupped Ianto's cheek. "Look, I'm not saying he'll understand right away. It'll probably take a bit of time for him to grasp the situation and maybe he'll be wary around you at first, but I know my son. He'll realize that you haven't changed, and that you're still daddy's husband." He smiled crookedly. "You and he are the two most important people in my life, and I'm not about to let a mental illness drive a wedge between any of us, okay?"

"Important, huh?" Ianto murmured.

"Very important."

Without thinking about it, Ianto took Jack's face in his hands and kissed him hard. Jack made a surprised sound, but he quickly rebounded and kissed right back. Jesus, it was good. No, it was better than that. It was great, wonderful, bloody _fantastic_, because this man actually loved him and Ianto could practically taste in on Jack's lips.

When they pulled back it was due to lack of oxygen and not because they wanted the kiss to end. Ianto licked his lips and hugged Jack, inhaling his aftershave. As they stood there for one long moment, Ianto's found himself speaking words he swore he would never say. "I love you." A part of him was just a little afraid of saying it, but when Jack hugged him tightly and whispered the words in return, Ianto felt that little ball of fear vanish. In fact, it gave him a bit of strength.

Ianto nuzzled Jack's neck. "549PV115."

"What?"

Ianto shook his head, not wanting to explain the significance of the code and ruin the moment. There were so many things he didn't like about this life, so many things that would take time for him to embrace and accept, but Jack? Ianto was coming to realize that he would give up just about anything for him.

Over Jack's shoulder, Harkness reappeared. Ianto stared, surprised by the quick reappearance, but Harkness didn't do anything except stand there. A patient and his nurse walked right through Harkness, and Ianto repressed a shiver at the oddity of it.

He looked away and tucked his face in Jack's neck. He didn't care what Harkness was anymore. He would probably just vanish, like always.

* * *

><p>As days passed, Ianto began to follow a certain routine. Between breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Ianto would take a walk in the gardens, spend time with Tosh, draw in his sketchbook, write in his journal, have sessions with Yates or Owen (depending on the day), and spend time with Jack. Sometimes he would talk to Glyn, mostly because the orderly still followed him around.<p>

He was adjusting, and it helped that everyone was giving him so much support. Even Jack, who had originally planned to stay only a week, had given him a pleasant surprise by extending his stay in Cardiff. He had explained that he didn't feel right returning to London while Ianto was still wavering between his delusions and his reality.

The only thing that was marring his adjustment was the appearances of Harkness. They were occurring more often now. They were always brief, and sometimes they occurred throughout a single day while at other times Ianto would see him only once or maybe not at all, but Ianto didn't like it. Ianto especially didn't like that grin. At one point, it had been sexy. Now? It was stupid. And it was creepy the way people sometimes walked right through him.

Ianto did the best he could to ignore him, and he found it easy to ignore him when he was in the lounge and talking to Rufus.

Their first introduction had been rather abrupt, with Ianto sitting on the couch and drawing and Rufus plopping down next to him, talking to him out of the blue about his favorite train, despite the fact that they had never spoken to each other before. Ianto had awkwardly humored him, feeling a little unsure of how to handle a grown man who couldn't hold an adult conversation, but Ianto had eventually realized that Rufus simply wanted a friend. He had set aside his own misgivings and had given Rufus his undivided attention, and apparently that had been enough for Rufus to declare Ianto as his new best friend.

And now Ianto found himself in the lounge, finishing up a drawing while Rufus sat on the floor in front of the couch Ianto was on.

"Here, Rufus," Ianto said, tearing out a page of his sketchbook. He handed it to Rufus. "That's your favorite train, right?"

Brown eyes widened with excitement. "Yes!" He scrambled up to his feet and hugged Ianto tight, nearly cutting off Ianto's ability to breathe. Rufus was certainly a big man. "Thank you, Ianto!"

"You're welcome," he managed to say. He took a deep breath as soon as Rufus released him. He smiled at the childish way Rufus admired the drawing, with his "oohs" and "ahs" to express it. The drawing itself was pretty basic compared to the drawings Ianto had discovered in his sketchbook, but it seemed to please the man. He reached into his sketchbook and returned the picture he had borrowed to use as a reference for the drawing. "Aren't you going to go tape it on your wall?"

"Later." Rufus smoothed the paper, and Ianto wished he had been able to frame it, but rules prevented frames to be allowed in patients' rooms. "Can you draw the other trains?"

Ianto smiled and nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll just need to borrow a few pictures, okay?" He couldn't draw very well from memory and needed photos in order to draw a likeness of a person or object. Rufus, as it turned out, had a lot of pictures of the talking trains, which he had collected by tearing them out of magazines and newspapers.

Rufus nodded. "I have some in my room. I'll give them to you after dinner."

"Perfect, thank you."

His head turned swiftly when Tosh's loud exclamation caught his attention. She was on the phone talking to her family, and her eyes had gone comically wide. Ianto frowned and got off the couch, approaching her just as she snapped out of her state of shock and began to talk in rapid Japanese. It was too fast for Ianto's basic Japanese skills to be of much help to him, so he leaned against the nurse's station and waited for her to finish.

She finally hanged up the phone several minutes later. Before he could ask if something was wrong, she blurted, "My parents are expecting a baby."

"Really?"

Tosh nodded. "It's completely unexpected, but I guess Nature decided that they needed one more kid. My brother is, of course, ecstatic at the idea of having a baby brother or sister to have around."

"That's great." Tosh was smiling, but there was something in her eyes that took away some of the brilliance from her smile. Ianto realized that Tosh wasn't as happy as she pretended to be. "What's wrong?"

Tosh's smile became forced. "What do you mean?"

"You're happy, but not too happy. And you're smile is slowly turning into a grimace."

She scoffed. "You're too damn insightful."

"Thank you." He nudged her shoulder before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the nearest empty table. He had a feeling they needed to sit for their conversation. "Now spill. What's going on?"

Tosh planted her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. "My mother is pregnant for the third time at the age of fifty-eight. _Fifty-eight_." She lowered her hands and looked at Ianto despairingly. "I'm in my early thirties and my future husband hasn't even asked me out yet." Ianto bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing, and instead he exhibited as much sympathy as he could. It wouldn't do to let Tosh know how ridiculous she had just sounded. "Jesus, I'm the one who should be pregnant right about now, not my mother. At the rate I'm going, my mother is going to be ninety by the time I have a kid."

"Tosh, your mother is living proof that you still have a shot at having a kid within the next twenty-five years."

"I don't want to be almost sixty when I have my first child. I'm going to be old and cranky, and a baby is probably the last thing I'll want by that age." She began to pick at the table, using her nail to cut into the wood. "I had plans, you know. Big plans. A career, a family. All of it by the time I hit thirty. And where am I now? Stuck in a mental hospital, sitting around while my mother gets knocked up." And her face suddenly twisted into an expression of disgust. "Oh god, my mother got knocked up."

"Yes, I do believe we've established that."

"No, you idiot. My mother got knocked up. At fifty-eight. My father is sixty-three. That means—" She gagged. "My parents still have sex!"

Ianto would've preferred not to have that kind of mental image, but he suddenly got a flash of an old couple rolling around in their bed and Ianto winced. He tried to shift the conversation back to what was really bothering Tosh. "Okay, so you don't have the career or family just yet, but it doesn't mean you won't have it eventually. I mean, what do you see yourself doing?"

"I don't know." Tosh chewed on her lower lip. "I've always wanted to work with computers."

"I thought you said you suck at computers."

"I suck at singing, didn't mean I never had dreams to sing on stage." She shrugged. "The hallucinations sort of fucked me over and then I ended up here."

"You can always get training, be a web programmer or something." He paused as he remembered the extensive range of talents Torchwood Tosh—Ianto grimaced and decided to just refer to everyone from his Torchwood memories by their last names—had when it came to computers. "You'd probably be good at creating programs."

Tosh bit her lower lip. "Yeah, I know, it's just—" She sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of hate you."

Ianto blinked. "Right, because it's perfectly possible for me to not take that the wrong way."

"You have something good out there. A career, a husband. I don't."

"You have your family."

"It isn't the same. I want what you have. I want to be working in this fabulous job, and I want a husband waiting for me when I get home. I have nothing going for me!"

Ianto couldn't believe it. Tosh was having a midlife crises at age thirty. "Tosh, my life isn't all roses and sunshine. I'm schizophrenic, remember? All you have to deal with are hallucinations. I need to worry about delusions and if I'm ever going to hurt someone."

Tosh crossed her arms over her chest and sulked. "I know that." She stayed quiet for one solid minute before huffing and waving her hand in the air. "And I don't hate you. I'm just annoyed that my life's plan didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. My mom's pregnancy reminded me of that."

"It's okay. I don't think any of us in here had planned to become residents of a mental hospital. I sure as hell didn't."

Tosh slanted her gaze in Rufus's direction. "But you seem to be doing okay now." She smiled at him slightly. "You're spending a lot of time with him. Replacing me already?"

"Of course not." Ianto returned her smile. "You're my best friend." He glanced at Rufus. "But he seems lonely. I figure I need to start making friends so I can have people to talk to once you leave." Something flashed in Tosh's eyes. Ianto frowned. "What?"

"What?" she parroted

"There was a look in your eyes."

"Oh." She blinked, then smiled. "I'm just glad you're settling in. I mean, after all the ruckus you caused with Torchwood and everything, it's nice to know you're finally accepting it."

"I haven't really accepted anything." Jack excluded, of course.

"Haven't you? You just said that you're schizophrenic. No shouts of denials, no big blow ups. You stated it as fact. Maybe on the surface you haven't accepted it, but on the inside?" She arched a brow. "Looks like there's hope for you yet, Ianto Jones."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"How are you today?" Owen asked as he settled in his chair.

It was another day for a session, this time with Owen, and Ianto got right to the point. "Any way to get rid of Harkness?"

Owen looked surprised by the question. "What?"

"He's annoying me. I want him to go away. Is there any way to do that?"

"There are techniques that can be used," he said slowly. He scrutinized him. "Is there something I should know about that made you ask that? Harkness has been popping up for a while, why ask now?"

Ianto gave Owen an irritated look, even though his irritation wasn't actually directed at the doctor. "Harkness used to pop in and out. Didn't hang around longer than a minute. Now he's popping up and staying longer. Five minutes. Ten. Last night he stood by my bed for about twenty minutes. It's a little uncomfortable trying to go to sleep when I have something standing over me like that. And he's following me around!"

Owen cocked his head. "He's moving?"

"Kind of. I mean, he's still a statue, but whenever I walk away to another spot to get away from him, he pops up right next to me." Ianto made an aggravated sound. "I'm sick of it. I want him to stop it."

Owen chuckled. "You said the same thing when Harkness first started appearing, and believe it or not, the fact that he's staying longer and following you is a good sign."

"Why?"

"Because he would follow you around whenever you were lucid. I mean, he wasn't always a statue, so I guess that means your delusion still has some power over you, but it might also mean that you're becoming more lucid about whom you really are."

"Wait, am I going to be stuck with Harkness for the rest of my life? Even if I cut all ties with Torchwood?"

"I can't be too sure. He isn't your only hallucination, but he's the longest one you've had. Owen got a thoughtful look on his face. "Increasing your dosage might—"

Ianto didn't let him finish, already knowing what he was suggesting. "I don't want more meds. Why don't we just switch them? Give me something different that will help."

"The medications you're taking are specifically prescribed for you. We had tried other kinds, and they don't work as well. But it is possible that by adding another drug or taking a bit more of the kind you're already taking that Harkness and other hallucinations might no longer be an issue."

"I just . . ." Ianto sighed, the sound heavy. Harkness was a distraction he could definitely do without, but he was already taking three different kinds of pills. If he kept getting off his meds every time he thought he was 'cured,' then chances were high that upping his dosage wasn't going to do much good in making sure he didn't decide to get off his meds again. "What are the techniques to get rid of Harkness?"

Owen shook his head, the only outward sign that showed his disappointment in Ianto's reluctance, but he didn't ignore Ianto's question. "Patients generally do have some control over their hallucinations, but hallucinations can't be forced to go away on a whim. Usually the best way for patients to deal with hallucinations is to direct their minds to other interests, to help them recognize that they don't need to sit on their arses and wait for their hallucinations to appear."

That would explain why it was easier to ignore him whenever Ianto spent time with other people. Harkness generally popped up whenever he was alone or had nothing to distract him.

"If we keep your mind occupied with activities that will keep you distracted," Owen continued, "it will be easier to ignore him and his presence should weaken. It might not work often or right away, but over time these kinds of distractions could be very effective. Talking about the hallucinations with me or Yates will help as well so we can remind you to persevere, particularly during the times when you feel like nothing is working." Owen smiled at him gently. "I may not have personally experienced it, but I do understand that this is difficult for you and I want you to know that you shouldn't give up."

Owen's faith and patience brought comfort that he hadn't expected to feel from a man who shared the same face as another man whose bedside manner had left a lot to be desired. "He's getting harder to ignore, though. When he stayed in one place, it was fine, but now that he pops up everywhere I go, it's like he wants to get my attention."

"Hallucinations will always follow you around. The best thing to do is not dwell on it."

"It's hard not to dwell on something that others can't see, especially if I'm going to be stuck with him for the rest of my life."

Owen raised brow. "He might not be an issue later in life if you—"

"No."

Owen muttered something about stubborn patients who didn't pay attention to their doctors and ended up complaining about hallucinations that could have been taken care of a long time ago. Ianto scowled.

In truth, Ianto was scared of having hallucinations for the rest of his life. He could just see himself sitting on the couch with Jack and watching television only for Harkness to appear in front of them with that stupid grin on his face. How long would it take before Jack decided that it was just too much hassle to be married to a man who kept seeing things that weren't there?

"How are you adjusting?" Owen suddenly asked.

"Adjusting?" So lost in his own thoughts, Ianto was thrown by the seemingly random question.

"With this life. I know you're still confused, but are you feeling a little easier about the whole thing? About Torchwood not being real and about being schizophrenic?"

"Oh." Ianto pursed his lips in thought. "Obviously, if I'm no longer being argumentative about everything, I'm feeling more at ease with my situation, but I still have issues with it. I don't like being schizophrenic, I don't like the idea that I might hurt someone, and I don't like having that kind of darkness—_evil_—inside of me."

"Evil?" Owen's brows were arched high. "You think there's something evil inside of you?"

"Isn't there? Why else would I try to kill Gwen?"

"Because you were having an episode that made you respond violently. That doesn't make you evil, just a little unstable, and clearly your medications help you control that."

Ianto sighed, hearing Owen's logic. The words, however, couldn't break through his emotional barriers and fears. "Is it really weird for me to say that I think I'll miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Torchwood," Ianto clarified. "Being an agent. I mean, it was dangerous and I probably would've died within the next few years, but it was fun and exciting and I was mentally stable. I miss Myfanwy and learning about all the corners of the universe. I miss my Archives and going through all the files. I miss my teammates, including Cooper."

"Cooper?" Owen questioned curiously.

"Gwen Cooper. I figure it'll cause fewer headaches if everyone from Torchwood is referred to by their last names." Ianto squirmed on the couch to get more comfortable. "I miss all the team bonding we did also." Ianto smiled. "There was this one case where we helped this alien refugee, or we thought she was a refugee. She turned out to be a fugitive. We had to chase her half way across the city because her race threatened to destroy earth if we didn't send her back." Ianto chuckled as he recalled the way the team had scrambled to find the fugitive, with Cooper trying to come up with ways to prevent the fugitive from being executed and Harper determined to giftwrap the fugitive and hand her over to protect the earth. "We all thought she did something horrible, like murder the royal family, but it turned out that she stole grain. Apparently grain was a precious commodity and it was a crime punishable by death to steal it." Ianto's smile shifted to a twist of melancholy. "It was fun," he repeated.

"It's okay for you to miss it," Owen said gently, "but you need to keep in mind that the Ianto Jones of Torchwood is not real. He was never real, and you were never him."

"Yes, yes, I know." And he did know, but it didn't make it any easier to accept.

* * *

><p>Tosh slapped his hand. "No, you're doing it wrong." Tosh moved his black pawn. "Like this."<p>

Ianto couldn't hide his frustration. "I'm never going to get this."

"You will, if you'd pay attention."

Ianto smiled. He couldn't help it. He adored this bolder Tosh, a woman who didn't hold back her opinions for the sake of another's feelings. She probably wouldn't do so well in any customer service jobs, but at least she didn't take shit from anyone.

"I pay attention." He waited for her to move another chess piece before he concentrated on the board, trying to figure out which piece he should move and in which direction. "I just never much cared for chess. It's a bit dull."

"Drawing is dull."

"It is not. It's soothing and creative and it makes me feel good." He wasn't lying. He had rekindled his joy for drawing. He had even asked for paints and brushes so he could experiment with them, and Jack promised he would bring him some. "Drawing relaxes me, and it doesn't require me to think about strategies to beat your opponent like chess does."

"That makes chess more exciting."

"Not really." Ianto moved his selected chess piece. "And there's the fact that I can't seem to find the proper strategies for this game." He was more than a little disgusted that he had never grasped the art of chess playing. Everyone always thought he knew everything, but there were just some things Ianto didn't know how to do, and one of those things was playing chess. He had never had anyone to play with when he was younger, and Ianto never really had any interest in playing chess once he had found friends. The crowds he had been a part of hadn't had much interest in chess anyway.

Tosh delivered a triumphant "Ha!" twenty minutes later when she beat him. Tosh gloated and Ianto rolled his eyes. "We already knew who would win when we started the game."

"Doesn't mean I can't be happy about kicking your butt!"

"I can see you enjoy kicking a dog when he's down. Can't you show mercy?"

"Not when the dog can do a whole lot of other tricks that his friend can't do."

Ianto snickered. As Tosh began to put back the game pieces, Ianto had to admit that despite the game, he was enjoying himself. He could hear birds chirping somewhere above him, which was a nice sound to hear. He hadn't considered himself the outdoorsy type, but it was calming to sit out in the gardens surrounded by nature, with flowery scents and birds chirping, the leaves rustling and the breeze brushing against his skin. It was nice.

"Hey," Tosh said a few minutes after they started a new game, "I have news for you."

"What kind of news?" Ianto concentrated on the chess board, not looking away from the chessboard.

"It looks like I'll be getting out of here soon."

Ianto's head jerked up. "What?"

Tosh's head was still bowed, avoiding his wide stare. "Owen said that my progress has been excellent the last few months. I can already tell the difference between what's real and what's not. I know how to keep my mind occupied on other things to drown out the things I hear and to distract myself from the things I see. Owen believes that I'd do pretty well back in society." She bit her bottom lip. "The point is that I'm not considered a danger to society or to myself. The meds have sharply reduced my hallucinations, and for the last several weeks the only hallucination I've had was Suzie, and even now she's not showing up as often as when she first appeared." She finally looked up. "I could be out within a few weeks."

"Oh." Ianto lowered his gaze. "When did you find out?"

"Last week."

He looked up again, eyes wide with shock. "Last week," he repeated. "Is that why you started freaking out about not having anything waiting for you outside of Whittier?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we're co-dependent here, and I wasn't sure if you'd be happy for me about leaving."

"Of course I'm happy for you." He forced a smile on his face. "It's very good news."

He could hear the falsity in his voice, and he quickly looked away from the annoyed and disappointed expression on Tosh's face.

He knew he was being an ass. Tosh had been in the hospital longer than he and she wasn't having issues with her memory or meds, so if she was going to go home soon she deserved it, but he couldn't help the swell of jealousy and resentment at her impending departure. She made Whittier a lot more bearable to deal with, a constant reassuring presence that comforted him when he felt alone or afraid, and she was going to leave him alone. While she was out with her friends and family, living her days in her home as she waited for Owen to ask her out, Ianto was stuck in a mental hospital with other patients who talked to walls or who didn't talk at all.

"Don't look like that."

"Look like what?"

"Like your dog just died."

Ianto grimaced. "Sorry."

"I know."

Ianto was surprised that she didn't rant at his lack of joy, but maybe Tosh realized that her absence wasn't going to be easy on him once she left.

They were quiet for several minutes as they played chess, with Tosh kicking his ass again. It was amidst the game when out of the corner of his eye he saw the flap of a coat. He sighed. He tried to use the game as a distraction, but he still wasn't used to having someone hovering over him like that.

"What's wrong?"

"Harkness."

Tosh blinked. "Harkness is here?" Ianto had told her about his hallucinations as soon as he started seeing Harkness around. Following Ianto's lead, she also referred to anyone associated with Torchwood by their last names.

"Standing right next to us, actually."

"Ignore him," Tosh said, returning her concentration to the chess board.

"Easier said than done. I really can't ignore him when he's standing right there."

"Then let's go." Tosh stood up and grabbed his hand. "Oi, Harkness, be a dear and don't follow, yes?" Tosh yanked Ianto to his feet and proceeded to drag him away. Ianto glanced over his shoulder to look at Harkness. "Don't look at him!"

Ianto snapped his head forward and allowed Tosh to drag him wherever she seemed to want to go. He had learned that sometimes it was better to just listen to Tosh than argue with her whenever she was this determined.

Tosh took him across the gardens, not stopping until they found another bench they could sit on. Ianto looked around, but Harkness wasn't in sight. "He's gone."

Tosh looked satisfied. "It's as easy as that to make him go away." She patted his shoulder.

Ianto grabbed her hand and squeezed. "What am I going to do without you?"

"I'm not abandoning you. I'll still come around, see you and make sure you're doing all right. And you have to at least call me once a day, assure me that you're you and not Ianto Jones from Torchwood." He laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around him. "One day, you and I are going to meet up in London, hit the pubs, get drunk, and have hazy memories of all the fun we had the night before." She kissed his cheek. "What do you say? Is it a date?"

Ianto smiled, and this time it was genuine. "It's a date."

* * *

><p>After Ianto finished eating his dinner with Tosh, Ianto returned to his room. He had barely started writing in his journal, expressing his sorrows of Tosh's probable departure, when Harkness returned to bother him.<p>

"Why don't you leave me alone?" Ianto snapped. He knew he wasn't supposed to communicate with it, but how the hell did anyone manage to ignore something that stood right next to you? Even without moving, Harkness commanded attention, and he didn't exactly want to be run out of his own room because of a hallucination. "What do you want from me?"

Harkness continued to grin.

"Look, my best friend is leaving the hospital in a few weeks and my husband is only here for about another week, and all I want is to try to spend as much time as possible with them without you reminding me that I can't leave with either one of them. So how about you go away and never come back, okay?"

Of course, Harkness didn't move, didn't vanish. Ianto didn't want to have Harkness hovering over him for over an hour, and writing in his journal or drawing in his sketchbook wasn't going to be enough of a distraction to get rid of him. In the state he was in, it was too hard to brush Harkness off.

He rubbed at his face, but then he stilled. The codes. He lowered his hands to stare at Harkness, wondering if saying another code would get rid of him. It was an unsure thing, but if the codes were the thing that kept him tied to Torchwood, then saying another one might be enough to lessen the power that Torchwood has over him, therefore making Harkness disappear. It was a long shot, though. Hallucinations were tricky and logic couldn't be applied to them, and Ianto was pretty much just fed up to the point that he would try anything.

"598KI288." Nothing. Ianto scowled before he muttered curses and crawled into bed. "Fair warning, I'm ignoring you now, so it'll probably be best for you to go away."

He closed his eyes and thought about anything other than the hallucination in his room. He didn't know how long he lay there, but when he opened his eyes to inspect his room, Harkness was gone.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was ironic. When he first woke up at the hospital, he had though Harkness would be the answer to all his prayers, but now Harkness was nothing more than a nuisance.

Jesus, things would be so simple if he just gave in and said all the codes so that he could finally cut all ties with his Torchwood delusions, but something kept holding him back and he wasn't sure what it was. Both his psychiatrists, Tosh, and even Jack had made comments that the 'real him' was returning, so it only made sense to just say the codes, embrace this life, and spend his time getting better.

It couldn't be that he was still afraid of being schizophrenic. Although he was still uncomfortable by the idea of it, and still afraid of what darkness lurked inside of him, he had long pass the stage of denial. Somewhere inside of him, he had already accepted it as fact.

So it was something else that kept him from saying the last three codes. A lingering doubt, perhaps, or maybe the flickering hope (that was somehow persevering) that couldn't quite let go of the idea that Torchwood was real. Or maybe he was still wishing for a way to get closure from Harkness.

Well, he couldn't get much closure from Harkness when he didn't do anything except stand and grin, now could he?

He sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. He never thought he would see the day when he would be torn between a life that had become real and a life that no longer seemed worth fighting for.

* * *

><p>It had been almost a month since Ianto had woken up in the Whittier hospital, and Ianto couldn't believe how fast time had flown. When one compared his initial reaction to how he felt now, it was like night and day.<p>

Ianto figured that much of his transition had to do with Jack's daily visits. He was a constant reassurance that he was loved, as well as a constant reminder of what he had waiting for him on the other side of the brick walls. Ianto loved their chats, their kisses, and even their comfortable silences when they simply held hands. Ianto was even used to seeing Jack's glasses perched on his nose, thinking it cute whenever Jack used a single finger to push them up when they slid down his nose.

And now he was more than a little disappointed at Jack's impending departure the following day. He had known Jack couldn't stay forever. He had already taken a lot of vacation days to extend his one-week visit and it was time for him to go, but Ianto wasn't ready for him to leave yet.

"I'm coming back," Jack repeated for what was probably the hundredth time. Ianto wasn't saying anything, but Jack seemed to know what he was thinking anyway. "It's just that I need to return to London and take care of a few things at the university."

"And how long will that take?"

"A while."

That didn't provide any kind of comfort, but Ianto was a big boy. He'd deal with it. Somehow.

"It's not just me leaving that's bugging you, is it? There's something else." Jack used a single finger to lift his head so they could look at each other. "Tell me."

Ianto rested his head on Jack's shoulder. "Tosh is leaving."

"Is she?"

Unlike Tosh, who was quick to show her irritation whenever Jack's name was mentioned (and who had been unafraid to show how unhappy she was with Jack's daily visits), Jack seemed to have no problem with Tosh. He knew, obviously, that Tosh's dislike stemmed from the knowledge of Jack's infidelity, but rather than get annoyed or upset at Tosh's blatant displays of resentment, Jack seemed to appreciate the fact that Ianto had one good friend in the hospital, even if that one good friend hated him on Ianto's behalf.

"She said that they're going to keep an eye on her for the next couple of weeks, and if she continues to remain in control of her hallucinations then they're going to discharge her."

"You don't sound too happy."

"I'm not exactly thrilled, no. You're leaving tomorrow, but I would've been able to handle that with Tosh here, but once she's gone I'm going to be alone here." He shuddered at possibility.

"You're not alone. There are others who you could be friends with. I mean, you're friends with that Rufus guy, aren't you?"

Ianto had to smile at the mention of Rufus. The grown man had enjoyed the numerous drawings Ianto had given him, and had the pages taped to his walls. "Yes, and I like him, but I need someone who can hold an adult conversation. There's only so much I can handle talking about trains. And besides, he and I have just barely become friends. He doesn't know me the way Tosh does." He propped his chin on Jack's shoulder and nuzzled the soft skin of his husband's cheek. "It won't be the same with her gone. She's my rock here."

"No wonder you're being clingy."

Ianto jerked away and scowled. "I'm not being clingy." To further his point, he released Jack's arm and leaned back against the tree they were sitting against.

"Then explain the way you were latching onto me."

"I wasn't latching on to you." He sniffed. "And even if I was, it's my prerogative to cling to my husband when he's about to go to a different country."

"A country that's right next door, Ianto." Jack's eyes were twinkling, and Ianto wrinkled his nose when Jack kissed the tip. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Doubtful," Ianto muttered. At the look Jack gave him, he hastily added, "I mean, it's doubtful that time will just fly on by." He sighed and looked down, noting the slightly darker skin tone of Jack's hands when compared to Ianto's pale skin. "Hey, why are you living in Europe when your accent is American?"

"I grew up in America, but my family moved us here when I was a teenager. My dad's company had decided to open a European branch and he was chosen to run it." Jack smirked. "The accent worked well in my favor when I arrived."

Ianto snorted. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Jack had combined his charm and his accent to seduce people left and right. Ianto had never considered the American accent sexy, not until he met Jack.

"Once I'm out of here, will you take me to America?" Ianto asked.

"I'd take you anywhere you want, sweetheart."

He was coming to enjoy the endearment Jack used. It wouldn't have sounded natural coming from Harkness, but whenever Jack said it Ianto could practically feel his insides melt.

"I brought you something." Jack gently nudged Ianto away so he could stand up and reach into the pocket of his jeans. He drew out a clenched fist before crouching down in front of Ianto and taking his hand, spreading it open. "I thought it would give you some comfort."

Ianto stared at the golden ring Jack deposited on his palm. "Is this my wedding ring?"

"Yep. You're not allowed to wear jewelry here so I kept it safe, but if you put it in a drawer it should be all right."

Ianto had figured that was why he hadn't been wearing a ring. None of the patients in the hospital wore jewelry, and Tosh had pouted at one point because she wasn't allowed to wear her favorite bracelet.

Ianto examined the ring at every angle, the sun glinting off the smooth metal. Something within the interior caught his eye, an inscription, and he brought the ring closer to read it.

"'Thank you'?" He cocked his head, confused by the odd words. Most inscriptions found in rings were usually about love and soul mates. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means thank you for choosing me. Mine says 'you're welcome.'"

Ianto wasn't sure if that was too romantic or wasn't romantic enough. "Please tell me it wasn't my idea."

"All right, I won't." Ianto cuffed Jack in the ear. Jack took the ring and held out Ianto's hand. "With this ring, I thee wed," he murmured, slipping the ring onto Ianto's finger.

"Oh," he whispered, caught by the sight of a wedding ring encircling his finger. He had thought that marriage was something he'd never get to have, that he'd die before it even became an issue. It was a shocking and awe-inspiring thing to see his finger adorned by a band of matrimony.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?"

Ianto glanced up. "What is?"

Jack took his hand, using his fingers to caress the ring. "For the first couple of days after we got married, every time I saw my wedding ring on my finger, it was like the most beautiful and the most astonishing thing to see. I just couldn't believe I was married and that I _liked_ it."

"But you were married before."

"Because she got pregnant, not necessarily because I wanted to be married to her. I didn't love her the way I love you." Jack lifted his hand to stare at his own wedding ring. "It just made this all the more shocking because I swore I would never get married again."

"So what was it about me that changed your mind?"

"Your passion for art. That fact that you're not afraid to go after what you want." Jack paused and then chuckled. "Career-wise, at least. You needed a bit persuasion when it came to your love life, though."

_Ianto's jaw fell open, staring at the man in front of him. When he finally managed to move his mouth, the first words out of it were, "Are you kidding me?" They came out almost like a squeak, making him scowl in embarrassment. He was grateful none of his friends had been around to hear him. He would have been teased about it for weeks._

_The man shook his head. "Far from it."_

_Okay, when Ianto had wished for someone to date, he hadn't expected it to be an older man who Ianto was sure was a professor at his university._

_"This has to be a joke."_

_"Does it look like I'm joking?"_

_"You do realize that you just asked a nineteen year old to go out with you for dinner, right?"_

_"You're legal."_

_"I'm also a student at the university."_

_"Art student."_

_Ianto's eyes narrowed. "Okay, that could be considered creepy."_

_"Not really." The man pointed at the art books sitting on the table in front of him. "It's kind of obvious."_

_Ianto leaned back in his chair and studied the man. "Again, I'm a student at the university."_

_"It's frowned upon, but not against the rules to date a student. Besides, you wouldn't be my student, not unless you're taking an astronomy course, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't take a class being taught by a man you're dating."_

_Astronomy course? Ianto wasn't required to take an astronomy course, but it did narrow down which department the man worked in. "I haven't agreed to date you."_

_The man's lips curled. "How should I convince you?" The words were purred, and combined with that sexy smile, Ianto barely suppressed a shiver._

_Huh. Well, at least the situation had shifted from flabbergasting to interesting. He eyed the man, giving him a slow glance from head to toe. The man may be older, but he was certainly hot. "By giving me your name, for starters."_

_The man took the seat across from him. "Jack Harkness, professor of astronomy."_

_"Professor Jack Harkness," he murmured, and a light bulb flashed in his mind. Now he remembered where he saw the professor before. "You're Linda's professor."_

_"Linda?"_

_"Linda Matthews. She's my friend, and I saw you when I dropped her off at your class."_

_Jack—if this was going to lead to a date, Ianto didn't want to start off by thinking of him as Professor Harkness—arched a brow. "So I made an impression?"_

_"I was in a hurry, so all I caught was a glance, but I guess you did stick in my mind."_

_Jack looked pleased. "So about that date—"_

_"Wait, I'm not done with the inquisition." Ianto kept his lips still, resisting the urge to smile. Jack's blue eyes brightened, as if the 'inquisition' was nothing more than a flirty game. In a way it was, but Ianto still wasn't sure how he felt about dating an older man who also taught at his university. "How old are you?"_

_"Thirty-one."_

_"Old."_

_"Mature."_

_Ianto tapped a finger to his lips. "And you just saw me sitting here and decided to ask a young student out for dinner?"_

_"I saw you a few times around campus, and initially I told myself that you're off-limits."_

_Understandable. Despite Jack teaching in a different department than the one Ianto studied in, and despite the fact that there would be a very slim chance of a conflict of interest occurring, the university severely frowned upon relations between students and teachers. While Ianto doubted that Jack's superiors would fire him when he wouldn't be, technically speaking, breaking any school rules, it was possible that if caught, they would make Jack's life difficult, maybe even pressure him to resign._

_"So what changed your mind?"_

_"I decided to risk it." Jack watched him for a moment. "It's been a while since I dated anyone, and you're the first to actually catch my interest."_

_Despite himself, Ianto was flattered, but as interesting as it was, he couldn't help but wonder what a thirty-one year old would want with a nineteen year old student. Ianto certainly didn't have problem dating older people, but his limit was five years older, and while no one can deny that Jack was attractive, they were at different stages in life. Jack had a career. Ianto didn't, still unsure if his paintings were going to be displayed in the gallery he had taken them to. _

_"Look, I'm not asking for commitment. I'm asking for one night where we can talk over dinner, see if the chemistry we have now is still there, and see if we have anything in common."_

_"I don't know how we can have anything in common."_

_"I'm sure we can find a few things." Jack smiled again, but it was soft and wicked all at once. Ianto chuckled. "Just one date. If we don't connect, then that's the end of it."_

_Ianto hesitated, but then he nodded. "All right. One date."_

As the memory drifted away, it left behind a smile on Ianto's face. Jack had already told them how they had first met, but the memory filled in details that only a memory could provide. Jack's twinkling eyes, the sexiness in his voice, the way he smiled. It made it more than just a story he had been told. It made the memory real.

"What's the smile for?"

"I remember the first time you took me out. I thought we wouldn't have anything in common because of our age difference."

"Ah." Jack grinned, eyes slightly going unfocused. "I figured that was why you had been hesitating."

"It definitely took some persuasion on your part to make me say yes."

"In my opinion, it was well worth it."

Ianto's smile vanished. "Was it?" he asked softly. "I mean, look at me. I'm not exactly a prize."

"Of course you are. Just because you're mentally ill doesn't mean I'll love you any less. I mean, I'm not a prize either after the hurt I caused you." He squeezed Ianto's hands and brought them up for a kiss. "You're the love of my life, Ianto. Never forget that."

They stared at each other for several seconds before Ianto bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. "You say all the right things," he whispered. "You know exactly what to say to make me feel loved and adored." It was the complete opposite to what Harkness had made him feel. Harkness had incited insecurities—Jack didn't. Even with the affair, Ianto trusted Jack more than he had ever trusted Harkness.

When he opened his eyes, Jack was staring at him with a twinge of concern. "But that's a good thing, isn't it? That I make you feel those things?"

"Yes, of course. You make me feel great in a way Harkness never had. My love for Harkness was a burden sometimes because I was so scared of accidentally saying the wrong thing or of giving away a hint of how much I loved him, and I didn't want to drive him away." He cupped Jack's cheek. "But what I feel for you is glorious. It makes me soar, and I'm not afraid of saying the wrong thing. Loving you doesn't feel like a burden. It doesn't feel like work. It feels . . . natural."

And just like that, everything slotted into place. Everything narrowed down to this, to Jack's love for him. That was all Ianto needed in the world. He may be schizophrenic, he may have some kind of darkness lurking inside of him, and he may even be something as normal and ordinary as an artist, but he also had Jack.

Whatever had been holding him back was nothing compared to what he had to gain if he let go of Torchwood. For good.

"Remember when I mentioned something about access codes?"

Jack's expression scrunched up in confusion, either because he didn't know what he was asking or because of the abruptness of the question being asked at all. "Think so, yeah. Why?"

"The codes are anchoring me to Torchwood. They were given to me by Harkness and I'm supposed to never say them to anyone, not even to my closest friends. The general theory, though, is that the codes are the final thread that keeps Torchwood alive for me."

Ianto inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly. "Initially, I was so determined to keep the codes to myself because I was protecting Torchwood, since the codes gives anyone who had them access to the Hub and sensitive information that might have endangered many lives. I didn't want that to happen. After discovering that there was no Hub, my reluctance in saying them was because I wasn't ready to let go of Torchwood, just in case the theory was true."

"So if you say them, you're, what, saying goodbye to Torchwood?"

"Exactly. I might still have delusions in the future, but maybe my delusions won't be of Torchwood. Maybe they'll be of something else, something that won't keep me away from the life I have here, or at least they won't warp my reality so bad that I'll have a hard time believing that this is my life."

"Why are you telling me this, Ianto?"

"Because I want you to understand what a big deal it is to me when I say the codes."

Jack's confusion vanished, replaced by understanding. "You're going to say them?"

"Yes." It was the only thing he could do now. It was time to fully accept that Torchwood had existed only in his mind, and it seemed somehow fitting to have Jack bear witness to him saying the codes. Saying goodbye to Torchwood and Harkness, so he could say hello to his future with Jack.

Jack studied him, those eyes flicking over his face, before he finally said, "That day when you kissed me, you muttered something with numbers and letters. Was that a code?"

Ianto nodded. "I've said three already. I need to say three more."

Jack grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together, giving him his support through touch. "Do whatever you need to do, Ianto."

"Right, then." Ianto took a moment to settle the nerves that were twisting his gut. He shouldn't be nervous, but it was to be expected. Some people wouldn't understand how big of a step he was about to take. To toss aside Torchwood, to practically rip off what he thought was a huge part of his identity and dispose of it. But it didn't matter what some people thought. What mattered was taking that leap and trusting Jack to catch him. "985KI523."

"I seem to recall telling you to keep the access codes to yourself."

It was Jack's voice. The tone, the accent, that deceptively lazy drawl, it was Jack's voice, except Ianto was looking right at him and his lips hadn't moved and the voice had come from a different direction.

"Then again, I never mentioned that the warning included a doppelganger, and I do look rather fetching in glasses, so I'll give you a free pass."

No. God, no.

Ianto reluctantly and very slowly turned his head in the direction of where the voice had come from, and his eyes eventually landed on Harkness, who was smiling wide.

So Harkness was no longer a statue. Fucking hell.

Harkness was standing with his legs shoulder-width apart, arms akimbo as his hands rested on his hips. The breeze was making his coat brush against his legs, and on his face was a smaller version of the grin Ianto had been forced to endure ever since Harkness first started showing up. The smile was a bit strained, though, and Ianto recognized it as his I'm-hiding-some-kind-of-negative-emotion-so-I'll-just-give-you-this smile.

Harkness took a step forward. "You have no idea the trouble we had to go through to make you hear me properly, but now that you can, we can nip this in the bud and bring you back."

Ianto barely stopped himself from asking where Harkness expected to take him. Owen had warned him not to be surprised if Harkness began to move again. It would be a sign of Ianto becoming more lucid, more aware of his actual reality, and he was practically there.

And now that he was ready to say the codes, he hoped he wouldn't have to worry about Torchwood or Harkness ever again.

Ianto swiveled his head back around and focused on Jack, and he wasn't surprised to see the curious look on Jack's face. Ianto smiled, hoping that he didn't look as rattled as he felt by Harkness's presence.

"652—"

"This is an illusion, Ianto."

Ianto tuned Harkness out. "—FT—

"It's not real."

"867."

"Damn it, Ianto," Harkness snarled, and suddenly he was right there, grabbing his shoulder, and Ianto instinctively jerked away from the unexpected touch. Harkness was _not _supposed to be able to touch him.

Ianto gaped at him. "You can touch me?" he asked, his incredulity making him forget the golden rule of not giving his hallucinations any attention.

Harkness squeezed his shoulder. "It took Tosh a few days to figure it out, but yes, I can touch you."

Morbidly curious, Ianto slowly reached out with a shaky hand until he plastered it against Harkness's chest. He was solid. Through the shirts that Harkness wore, Ianto could feel hard muscle and steady movement as the chest moved up and down. He could even feel the gentle thumping of a heartbeat.

"See?" Harkness whispered. "You can touch me."

"But that's impossible," Ianto slid his hand off Harkness's chest. "You're not real."

Harkness brought his other hand up until both hands were gripping Ianto's forearms tightly, almost painfully. "Listen to me, you're trapped in an illusion right now. It's the—"

Ianto's arm was shaken, tearing his attention away from the anxious look on Harkness's face until he was seeing the worried look on Jack's. "What's going on, Ianto? Who are you talking to?"

"Harkness," he answered. He was still in shock at Harkness's ability to touch and speak. "He can talk now. He wasn't able to before."

"Should you really be doing that? I thought the doctors said that you need to ignore your hallucinations."

"I'm not a hallucination," Harkness insisted, but Ianto didn't turn to look at him.

That was the thing with hallucinations; they sometimes felt real even though they weren't. It was his mind telling him what to feel and hear when nothing was there. So he broke away from Harkness and shrugged off his shock. He had something he needed to finish. "You're right, he just took me off-guard."

"Remember what you said about the codes," Jack said. "You have one more to say, don't you?"

"Jesus, Ianto, you've already said five of them?" Harkness sounded almost horrified.

"Last one," Ianto answered Jack, ignoring Harkness.

"Then ignore your hallucination."

"But I'm _not_ a hallucination!" Harkness neatly put himself in between him and Jack. Ianto glared, annoyed that the hallucination looked too real to be see-through. "I'm real, and I know you think this life you have here is real, but it's not. It's the uinolils, Ianto. You know what those do, don't you?"

Against his will, his mind searched through his memories until it plucked one out of the line and moved it to the front of Ianto's mind, forcing him to recall a small orbed device that was capable of creating illusionary realities within someone's mind.

He refused to believe it, especially when it wouldn't make sense. The uinolils used the desires and memories of a user to create those false realities, and the last place Ianto had ever wanted to find himself in was in a mental hospital. "You're just trying to keep me from getting rid of Torchwood. From getting rid of you."

"I swear that I'm telling you the truth. I know things don't make sense but there's more to the story and I'll explain it all to you when we get back to the real world, but you can't say the last code or you'll be stuck here for good."

He took a step back, avoiding the hand Harkness reached out to touch him with. "This _is_ the real world, and saying the codes will make me better. I won't let a hallucination convince me otherwise."

He pushed Harkness aside, but of course the bastard couldn't let things go and Ianto was suddenly shoved back. He tripped over his own feet and landed on his ass.

"Ianto!" Jack was at his side in an instant. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Ianto ignored him in favor of glaring at Harkness. How did anyone expect him to ignore the bastard after said bastard pushed him to the ground? "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"For not listening to me," Harkness snapped. "For betraying me."

"Betraying you?" Ianto climbed up to his feet and shoved Harkness as hard as he could, angry at his words and growing angrier when Harkness didn't fall on his ass the way Ianto had. "I'm not betraying anyone or anything because there's nothing there for me to betray. They're just numbers and letters that don't mean anything." Ianto took a step closer. "And if you push me again I swear I'll hit you across the jaw."

Harkness tilted his chin up. "Go ahead. Then it'll give me an excuse to hit some sense back into you." His lips twisted. "Hell, maybe I'll kick your ass to make you see the truth."

"I know what the truth is, you stupid—"

"Ianto."

He turned and blinked at Yates's and Glyn's sudden appearance. They were staring at him with worry, their expressions matching Jack's. But more than that was the apprehension, the uneasiness, as they watched him talk to thin air. He wondered if they were bracing themselves for a violent attack. Even Ianto could tell how Harkness's presence had worked him up.

He consciously relaxed his clenched hands. "Harkness," he explained to the new arrivals before either one could ask. "He's talking now."

Yates frowned. "Don't engage with him, Ianto. It won't help your recovery if you talk to him."

"Don't listen to him." Ianto squeezed his eyes shut at Harkness's voice. "Listen to me, okay? This, everything around you, is an illusion. It's all happening in your mind, and I swear I'm not some figment of your imagination." There was a touch on his shoulder and Ianto opened his eyes to find Harkness's fingers on it. Ianto looked away. "Don't you remember that you can control an illusion created by a uinolils?"

Ianto shot him a glance, just a quick one that wasn't supposed to mean anything, but the fingers on his shoulder tightened, and that was enough to let him know that Harkness had caught the look and knew that his words had captured Ianto's attention.

"You can control a lot of aspects in your illusion, remember?" There was something in Harkness's tone now. He wasn't as aggressive; he was now cajoling, obviously using Ianto's interest to his advantage. "All you need to do is focus and you can change things."

Ianto knew that indulging in such a notion was harmful to his recovery. He told himself that he was currently conversing with a hallucination that was talking bullshit, and the right thing to do was to ignore Harkness—his image, his voice—and focus on something else, like Jack. His husband was real, solid. He needed to say the last code so he and his husband could move on from all this. He told himself to do it.

Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on the one thing he desperately wanted to change. He wanted out of the hospital. He wanted not to be mentally ill. He wanted to change his circumstances so he could go back to London, sleep beside Jack in their bed, eat Thai take-out, and talk about adoption, and he wanted it at that very moment. So he imagined himself standing in a living room with soft carpet, white walls, and multi-colored furniture, from the red couches to the bright yellow coffee table, things that he knew were in their house because he remembered being there.

He opened his eyes, but instead of seeing framed pictures hanging on walls and a flat-screen television, he found Glyn, Yates, and Jack, who continued to look at him with wary and concerned expressions. God, how he must look like. Talking crazy, _looking _crazy.

"Still stuck in the hospital," he said. He arched a brow at Harkness, challenging him.

Harkness muttered a curse. "I know you don't believe—"

"Precisely the point. I don't believe you because you're not real."

"Enough," Yates suddenly ordered, presumably tired of watching Ianto talk to himself. He grabbed Ianto's arm. "No more, Ianto. The more you talk to your hallucination, the more difficult it will be for you to let go of Torchwood. Remember, if you continue to hang onto Torchwood, you'll never go home."

"Talking to me is the only thing that will get you home," Harkness firmly claimed. "Back to the Hub, to Torchwood. That is your home, and if you continue to ignore me then you'll never see it again."

And all at once, Yates and Harkness began to talk over each other, making it difficult for Ianto to concentrate when both of them began to pull him int different directions with their words.

"Ianto, don't get lost in the hallucination."

"I'm not a hallucination, and somewhere inside you, you know it's true."

"You will relapse if you allow yourself to believe in something that isn't there."

"Torchwood is your life, always has been."

"Say the last code."

"Remember who you are, remember the life you lived. Fight this!"

Ianto reached up and rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache beginning to form. Rubbing his temples failed to do anything, so he covered his ears to block them out. "Stop," he whispered.

The muffled voices ceased when hands covered his and gently lowered them. Ianto stared at Jack. "Are you okay?"

"Too much noise," he muttered.

Jack murmured assurances, wrapping him up in his arms and holding tight. Ianto heard Yates ask Glyn to retrieve Owen. Lips touched his ear, and Jack quietly asked, "You trust me, don't you?"

Ianto pulled back, surprised by the question. "Yes, of course I do."

"Then tell me the last code. Ignore everyone else, just concentrate on me and tell me what it is."

"Don't do it," Harkness said sharply. Ianto refused to look at him. "Please, Ianto, you promised me that you would keep those codes to yourself. You promised me. Don't say it."

If Harkness had appeared earlier when Ianto had been trying to prove that Torchwood was real, when Ianto had fucking asked for a sign, he would've believed him. He had been desperate back then, confused and lost as to why he was waking up in a mental institution, and all he had wanted was to find Torchwood, return to it, get away from the very notion that he was schizophrenic and that everything he had thought to be real wasn't real at all.

But things were different now. He didn't need saving from a man who didn't exist.

He closed his eyes. "328—"

"Please," Harkness pleaded. Ianto hunched and tried to shut out Harkness's voice. "Tosh! Make them go away, damn it."

"—KS—"

"Sorry, Ianto."

He was pushed—_again_—and he fell out of Jack's arms, only to be turned around by a firm grip on his shoulder. Pain blossomed in his jaw, his heard jerking to the side. He brought up a hand to carefully touch his aching jaw, turning his head back around to stare at Harkness in mute shock. He couldn't believe the bastard hit him, and he looked pleased by it, pleased and—desperate?

"Feel that?" Harkness snapped. "The pain is real. _I'm_ real. I'm your boss, your friend, and your lover, and I'll be damned before I allow you to throw your life away for something that's fake."

Ianto continued to stare. "I just want to go home." His hands trembled. "Why won't you leave me alone so I can go home?"

"I'm here so I _can_ take you home." Harkness seized Ianto's shoulders. "An alien took you, Ianto. You spent nine days in his lair and he was using the device on you so he could get the codes. That's what this is, that's why it feels real."

_Ianto kept his eyes open, straining his ears for any sound that would give the Chyla's location away, and doing his best to stop the frantic thoughts that were going through his head._

_A fuck. Jack had called him a fuck. A fling. Someone not worth wasting time over. He felt a spike of anger and he struggled to tamp it down. There was no room for anger, not when he was looking for the Chyla. _

_But he couldn't stop thinking of the way Jack had said those words. Had he meant them? Or had he just wanted the argument done and over with and had allowed his frustration to overrule common sense? Or had he not cared that Ianto would be hurt by such a proclamation? _

_"Ianto?"_

_Ianto jerked out of his thoughts, and with a scowl he realized that he had stopped walking. Disgusted with himself for letting personal issues get in the way of a Torchwood matter, he pressed a hand against his comm-unit. "Yes?"_

_Jack's voice was brisk, detached. Ianto wondered if he was thinking about their fight just as much as Ianto was, or if he had already put it behind him. "Any signs of the Chyla near you?"_

_"No." Ianto resumed walking. "I thought I—" He yelped as something hard grabbed at his leg. He hitched forward and fell on the grassy ground, the wind knocked out of him. He kicked out automatically and felt his foot make contact with something solid. Whatever had a hold on his leg released him and Ianto scrambled forward until he could stand up. He pivoted, hand grabbing his gun and pointing it, but noting was there. He looked around him, trying to find whatever had grabbed him. _

_Jack was growling in his comm-unit after his inquiries went ignored. With a huff, Ianto lowered his gun and touched his comm-unit. "I'm fine, sorry. I think something grabbed me, but I'm not too sure—"_

_Something tripped him and he landed on the ground again, gun sailing and comm-unit dislodging. Both his legs were suddenly grabbed and he was dragged across the ground. He struggled, trying to kick out and digging his hands into the soft soil. "Let go!" he shouted. _

_And then he was falling, and a grunt left his lips when he landed on a heap of soggy dirt. He quickly got to his feet and looked around, finding dirt walls surrounding him and a circular opening several feet above him._

_He was in a hole. _

_"What the fuck?" he whispered. _

_One of the dirt walls was moving, crumbling, and Ianto backed up, but he couldn't get very far. He watched as limbs, torso, and a head moved through the dirt until standing in front of him was the ugliest thing Ianto had ever seen. Three arms, with one protruding from its chest, four legs that were knobby and bent, and a skeletal head with yellow eyes and a forked tongue. _

_Definitely alien. Ianto looked around for a weapon, but a clawed hand grabbed his throat and slammed him against the dirt wall._

_Ianto scrabbled at the hand._

_"I've waited a long time," the thing said, hissing. "A _very_ long time." Then the hand threw him across the small space, but the force was strong enough for Ianto to bang his head. He fell to the ground and slipped into unconsciousness._

"No," Ianto whispered, the memory swimming in his head. He shook his head, as if the movement will shake the memory right out. "No, no, no—"

_Ianto opened his eyes, but his head was swimming and his vision kept coming in and out. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't budge. It took him a while to figure out that his hands and legs were tied down, and it took him even longer to realize that he was lying down on something hard. A table, maybe._

_He blinked up to clear his vision, and the blurriness vanished just in time for him to see a skeletal head move into his line of sight. _

_"Who—?" The word came out rough and almost unintelligible. He cleared his throat. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"_

_"An old friend of Torchwood's," it hissed. He lifted a hand and showed a small orbed-shaped crystal ball with wires and electrodes dangling from it. Ianto squinted at the object, wondering where he had seen it before. His head was pounding, though, making it difficult to figure out. "And as to why I'm doing this . . ." It placed the crystal down by Ianto and proceeded to place an electrode on either side of Ianto's head. It then grabbed the crystal ball and held it in its hand. "I'm doing this so I can _destroy_ Torchwood." It grinned. "Sweet dreams."_

Ianto sucked in a breath and backed away from everyone. No, those memories couldn't be real. The Chyla, the mention of Torchwood—No. _Hell_ no.

Jack and Harkness followed him, two men who looked the same yet weren't the same at all. Jack cupped his face. "What's wrong?"

"I . . ." Ianto flicked his gaze to Harkness, who stared at him with determination and desperation written all over his face. He returned his gaze to Jack, and he was suddenly afraid of what the memories meant. He grabbed Jack's shirt, holding tight. "You're real," he whispered. "You are."

Jack was startled. "Of course I am. I'm real and I'm here for you. I'm always here for you."

Harkness appeared at their side, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see the way Harkness's jaw clenched, the narrowness in his eyes. "Not for long," Harkness said, and Ianto didn't understand what he meant but he didn't want to ask. Harkness forcibly broke him and Jack apart, and Ianto squeezed his eyes shut as he was pushed back a few steps, hands on his shoulders, guiding him to turn.

"Open your eyes, Ianto, and watch your friends. I need you to watch them."

Ianto turned his head away, something telling him not to see, not to listen. "No." He could feel Harkness's body heat behind him, smell his pheromones.

Hands grabbed his head and forced it straightforward. "I need you to watch them," Harkness repeated.

Ianto's breathing was fast, becoming erratic, but his eyes reluctantly parted to take in the scene.

Glyn had found Owen and, surprisingly, Tosh, and all three were standing next to Yates and Jack. Owen's expression was grim, and something curled inside him when Owen withdrew a covered syringe from his pocket.

"Any second now," Harkness whispered, "they're going to disappear."

Ianto whirled around as an absurd spurt of fear ran through him. "You're not real!" he shouted. "They're real, not you!"

"Turn around," Harkness urged. "Watch them and see."

Ianto tightened his lips, feeling his body shaking, but he turned around to watch them, sure that Harkness was lying. As he took in the small group of people, he realized that they were his little family, every single one of them. Tosh with her stinging tongue, Owen with his kind gaze, Glyn with his understanding ear, Yates with his stubborn goals. And then there was Jack, who was watching him with confusion, wariness, and worry, but behind all of that was love.

When was the last time he had so many people concerned about him, helping him, loving him? As awful as his mental illness was, he had people who cared about him. He wasn't alone here.

For several seconds nothing happened. No one disappeared, they were just staring at him, and just as Ianto was about to turn around triumphantly, the final code on the tip of his tongue, Yates and Glyn faded away. He froze.

He looked at Jack, Owen, and Tosh, but none of them seemed to notice the disappearances.

As if he read Ianto's mind, Harkness said, "Ask them, Ianto. They won't know who they were. They won't remember either one of them. Ask them where they went. "

Oh god, he didn't want to ask. He was afraid of the answers, but he swallowed and forced himself to ask. "Where are Yates and Glyn?"

Owen gave him a confused look. "Who?"

Ianto's closed his eyes briefly. He turned to Jack. "You know who Dr. Yates is, right?"

Jack frowned and slowly shook his head. "No. Is he one of your hallucinations? You've never talked about him before."

A noise, something that sounded like a whimper, escaped his mouth. He turned to Tosh. "You met Glyn, didn't you?"

She shook her head, and his heart plummeted.

Ianto heard Harkness say, "Tosh, get rid of your and Owen's twins." A second later, Tosh and Owen disappeared exactly the same way Glyn and Yates had.

Ianto's breath hitched, and he lunged forward, grabbing handfuls of Jack's shirt. "Tosh and Owen," he demanded. "Do you know who they are?"

Jack nodded, and Ianto was relieved. His relief was short-lived, brutally destroyed by Jack's words. "They're your hallucinations. Tosh and Dr. Harper aren't real. They exist only in your mind."

"There's no wind, no noise," Harkness said. Ianto glanced around the gardens, breath escaping in short gusts as he tried to get air to pass through his lungs that were being squeezed by the tightness in his chest. There was no one walking around, the gardens empty of patients, orderlies, and nurses, and everything around was still. _So_ still. No leaf moved under a breeze and no flower petal fell. No birds, no chatter. It was dead silence. "Do you believe me now, Ianto?"

Ianto tightened his lips and carefully released Jack's shirt. He took a few steps back, slowly putting distance between himself and Jack until he was standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Harkness.

"He's not real?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harkness shake his head. "No," Ianto denied heatedly, and he could hear the desperation wrapped around that single syllable. "No, he's real. He has to be."

"Ianto—"

"Maybe I'm being drawn back into another delusion." He kept his gaze on Jack, taking in every single detail about him. The longish hair, the glasses, the polo shirt, the jeans, the black trainers. "Maybe I'm in a delusion right now and—"

"You know that's not true."

"Ianto, what's going on? Are you still talking to Harkness?" Jack asked.

Ianto wanted to say that yes, he was still talking to Harkness, but that he shouldn't worry because Ianto was going to stop talking to him and say the final code and then that would be the end of Harkness.

He didn't say any of that. He ignored Jack's question altogether.

"But he feels real, and he loves me," Ianto said, still staring at Jack but speaking to Harkness. "He promised me we could start all over. I was going to have a normal life with him." He wondered if he looked as crestfallen as he felt. He probably did.

"You can't have a normal life with someone who isn't real."

"I can try." His breath caught, making the words come out hoarsely and shaky and unbelievable. God, his eyes burned. "I can try to have a normal life with him."

Jack smiled at him. "That's right, Ianto. We'll have a normal life together."

Ianto wanted to believe it so bad, but then Jack started fading away. It was a process that seemed slower than when the others had vanished. Ianto wanted to look away, but he ignored the impulse and kept his head forward. He looked straight at Jack's face even as it became transparent, forcing himself to face the undeniable truth of Jack's imaginary existence.

"He's not real." He said it mostly to himself, needing to hear himself say it. "All this time, I thought I finally had a chance to be happy, and it turns out that he's not real." Ianto felt his lip tremble as Jack finally winked out of existence. He inhaled sharply. "We were going to be happy together. I was going to continue painting and he was going to teach, and we talked about adopting a kid, and now . . ." He looked down at his hand. No wedding ring. Not even a faint discoloration that proved he had been married. "I want him back."

What he wanted more than anything was Jack back.

But Harkness, ever the hero, dispelled any fantasies or wishes he may have had of Jack returning to him. "I'm sorry, but he never existed in the first place. You can't have him back." He reached out a hand, palm upward. "It's time for you to come home."

Ianto looked at the hand, wondering why it looked fuzzy, and then he realized that his vision was distorted by tears. He wondered what would happen if he rejected Harkness's hand. Would he be stuck here in this empty hospital? Could he bring back Jack? Any illusion created by a uinolils could be controlled; he could bring Jack and everyone else back, and maybe he could change his circumstances so he wouldn't have schizophrenia. His earlier attempt at changing his living arrangements hadn't worked, but it was possible that all he needed was practice. He could have everything he wanted. No mental illnesses, no patients, just Jack and him and their friends living their lives in London.

A perfect life.

Even as he imagined it, he knew he wouldn't do it. Accepting Jack had been easy when he had thought Jack was real. Now that he knew otherwise, it wouldn't be the same. Every time he looked at Jack, or Tosh, or Owen, he'd know that they weren't real. Every time he woke up in his bed in London, or walked into the gallery that sold his paintings, he'd know that he was living a lie that he had willfully and knowingly created in his mind.

"Fine," he muttered. He wiped his eyes and stiffened his trembling lip. He knew what he needed to do, and he wasn't going to cry over it. He determinedly looked at Harkness, hiding his breaking heart behind a blank mask. "I don't want to be here anymore anyway." He grabbed Harkness's hand.

Everything abruptly dissolved. He lost touch with the ground, no longer standing upright, and Ianto felt like he was being turned upside down and all around. When he opened his eyes, it was to see the upside down face of Harkness, his eyes filled with relief and compassion. "Hey," Harkness whispered.

Ianto lifted his head and struggled to sit up, but his head spun and hands gently pushed him back down. "Don't move. You're weak."

"Right you are." Ianto turned his head and spied Harper standing by his monitor, his complexion as ghastly as it had been since the day he became a zombie. Something was beeping by Ianto's ear. "Dehydrated and malnourished." Harper glanced at him. "Just when I thought I could tolerate you, you had to nearly die."

Die? Ianto was completely confused. "I'm okay?" he managed to ask, though his throat was hoarse and the words were barely an audible whisper.

"Luckily," Harkness answered, smiling down at him and looking exuberant. Ianto wish he could share in the joy. "Tosh!" Harkness shouted, lifting his head towards the entrance of the medical bay. "He's back."

"Here you go, mate," Harper said, bringing a glass of water with a straw. Harkness lifted Ianto's head just enough so he could sip. The cold liquid felt wonderful going down his throat, and he protested when Harper pulled the glass away. "A little bit at a time."

As Ianto head was lowered, he caught sight of Sato appearing at the railing at the top of the medial bay. She looked relieved, and just as happy as Jack. "Thank god it worked."

"Took you long enough to make my counterpart vanish," Harkness complained.

"Ianto created your counterpart. It took longer to delete him from the illusion."

Ianto didn't understand what they were talking about, and while he wanted an explanation, he was too exhausted to ask for it. Maybe he would when he didn't feel so tired and sluggish. He closed his eyes so he could rest them, only to promptly fall unconscious.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

When Ianto opened his eyes again, he quickly realized he was no longer in the medical bay. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed. A quick look around revealed two things: he was in the barely used recovery room of the Hub, with him occupying one of the six beds that were there (he hoped the sheets had been cleaned before they had placed him on the bed), and Harkness was sitting by his bedside reading a book. Ianto shifted, but winced when moving his arm tugged on the IV needle that was currently buried under his skin.

Harkness looked up and grinned wide when he saw Ianto awake. "Hey." He closed his book and put it on the rickety table that sat beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak." Ianto's voice was still raspy. He grimaced.

Harkness—or Jack, now that Ianto realized that there was no need to refer to him by his last name—quickly poured some water from the pitcher that was on the bedside table. He placed a straw in the glass and helped Ianto lift his head to drink. He emptied the glass.

"You're going to feel weak for a quite a while," Harkness—Jack—said, pulling the glass away when it was empty. "You were without food and water for over a week before we found you."

Ianto got as comfortable as he could on the bed. He watched Jack owlishly, taking in the lines of exhaustion that crinkled his skin. "How long have I been asleep?" he rasped.

"Ten hours. It's around three in the morning. Tosh went home, but Owen stayed behind so he could keep an eye on you. He's bitching about being cock-blocked." Jack rolled his eyes. "The only thing that's cock-blocking him is his inability to get an erection."

Owen bitching. Ianto should be glad to hear about that, but it was difficult when he had a kinder Owen fresh in his mind. "That's why I always wondered why he bothered with porn," Ianto murmured, making an effort.

"Says that it's still artistic." Jack snorted, but then his amusement vanished. "I'm sorry for punching you."

Ianto thought the apology was redundant, but he shrugged. "It's okay. You were just trying to help." He cleared his throat. "So who was the alien behind this?" It definitely hadn't been the Chyla.

"An Uktoba. A very angry, resentful, and out-for-vengeance Uktoba."

Ianto frowned. "I remember an alien grabbing me. It had multiple limbs, skeletal head, and yellow eyes."

"Yep, that's an Uktoba, although the skeletal head indicated that it was still a teenager in human terms. A full-grown adult would have already grown flesh and muscle over it."

Ianto tucked that kind of information away for later, when he was well enough to go to his Archives and find information on Uktobas. "What happened to it?"

"Dead. It, ah, wasn't very cooperative when we found it and when I interrogated it . . ."

Ianto blinked. "Don't tell me you got carried away."

Jack was sheepish, although there was a twinge of regret lurking in his eyes. "Time was running out and I sort of let my anger take over."

Ianto absorbed that for a moment. "The Uktoba said it was waiting for a long time and that it was going to destroy Torchwood, but I don't recall ever dealing with it."

"That's because Torchwood dealt with this particular Uktoba back in the early 1900s. It came through the rift, and my superiors ran painful tests and experiments on it. I wasn't here during that time—I think I was in America somewhere—but by the time I came back, the Uktoba had somehow escaped. They never explained how, but I knew that the Uktoba had dug into the ground. My superiors knew so little about Ukotbas that they didn't realize Uktobas mostly live underground. Their skin can't really handle the sun and they don't really need a lot of oxygen, so whenever they're away from their planet they make homes underground."

"So this was the same Uktoba?"

"He used colorful language, of course, but I got the feeling that it's the same one."

"But why come after me? I didn't do anything to it." He cleared his throat, feeling it go dry again.

Jack was quick to pour another glass and helped him drink.

"It wanted Torchwood gone and it figured the best way was to get its access codes. The Uktoba wanted passwords, sensitive information, the database, all of it." When Ianto drained the glass, Jack put it back on the table. "Its main objective was to destroy Torchwood as payback for what my superiors had done to it, but Uktobas are opportunists. Getting all that information about other alien races, about earth, that was all icing on the cake."

"That still doesn't explain why it came after me. How did it even know I had them?" As soon as he asked the question, he already knew the answer. That had been one of his theories when he first woke up in Whittier. "It watched us." Jack nodded grimly, which didn't surprise Ianto. "For how long?"

"Months, maybe years. Uktobas aren't a patient lot, but I guess this one decided that patience was well worth getting his revenge exactly right. It realized that you and I were . . ." Jack hesitated.

Ianto knew what Jack was implying. "Fucking?" he offered. Jack looked distinctly uncomfortable, tension rising in the air, and Ianto knew Jack was thinking about their fight, about his last words to him. Unwilling to let the conversation get sidetracked, especially when he was in no mood to talk about their fight, he hypothesized. "So it realized that Torchwood had access codes, or maybe overheard one of your superiors talking about access codes, and it decided to extract revenge on us. It took it's time to come up with its perfect plan to get the codes, and figured that since you and I were fucking, I would know what they are."

"That's the gist of it, yeah. It knew the leader would have the codes, but it also realized you had them, too. Made sure of it, actually. Don't ask me how," Jack answered before Ianto got the opportunity to ask. "Like I said earlier, I got a little carried away. There are some answers that we're not going to get, and that's one of them."

"Fantastic," Ianto muttered. "Why didn't it go after you, then?"

"Because I wouldn't have made the best target. I mean, with the plan it chose to go with to extract the information it needed, it wouldn't have worked on me."

"And what route was that?"

Jack hunched forward a little, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of his face. "Because of the uinolils. It needs access to a user's mind, remember?"

He did remember, and Ianto blamed his slow thinking on exhaustion and weakness. In order for a uinolils to create an illusion, it needed to connect with the user's mind, create a sort of pseudo-psychic link so the device could have access to a user's memories and get a feel of a user's inner most desires to create the perfect alternate reality.

Jack's mind was heavily protected with mental barriers that kept anyone from peeking into his thoughts without his permission. Ianto had had psychic training at Torchwood One, but it had been basic and his own mental barriers weren't like Jack's. The uinolils would not have worked on Jack, not like it had worked on Ianto.

"The Uktoba probably bought the uinolils on the alien black market."

Ianto's brows arched. "Alien black market?"

"Yep. Probably made a few contacts over the years, arranged to have it delivered or maybe found a way to leave the planet to get it."

"We have an alien black market?" Ianto asked slowly.

"Well, yeah."

Jack said it like it was obvious. Ianto squinted, wondering if it should be obvious but his pounding head wouldn't let him see it as such. He'd get back to it later.

"Is the uinolils banned or something?" The files on the uinolils didn't say anything about the device being outlawed.

"It's banned from most galaxies."

"Why?"

Jack tilted his head, confused. "Didn't you read the files on the thing?"

"A lot of the files are incomplete. The file on the uinolils is one of them." Ianto shifted against his pillows, getting more comfortable. "Probably got lost after the Archives became neglected."

"Maybe." Jack sighed. "People who use the uinolils have complete control over their illusion when they first connect to it. The device creates an environment based on the user's desires and memories, kind of like a template, and from there the user can pretty much do what he or she wants in the illusion. It's their reality to play with. That was the original purpose of the device, to be used as a virtual getaway from the real world." He grimaced. "But a lot of users began to stay within their illusions longer than recommended, and the illusions became addictive, like a psychic drug, and users didn't want to get out the illusion. The problem, though, is that the longer you're in an illusion created by the uinolils, the more you begin to believe that it's real."

Ianto took a deep breath, remembering how he had struggled for days with doubts before he began to believe that everything in the illusion was real. God, even when Jack told him what was going on Ianto hadn't wanted to leave.

"Once you start believing the illusion is real, you start losing control over it," Jack added. "It evolves on its own, and the more you believe it the less you're able to change things."

"Which is why I couldn't control anything when you told me I could."

"Yeah, but I didn't know how far gone you were. Chances are that you had some control in the beginning, you just didn't know it."

Ianto closed his eyes, going back over his time in the mental hospital. Then he snorted.

"What?" Jack asked.

Ianto shook his head, opening his eyes as he thought the little things that he had wanted to happen: his grand escape by climbing a tree, running away without getting caught, not being put in isolation when he was returned to Whittier. He had thought someone was looking over him; he just hadn't known that it was him forcing things to go his way.

But hadn't he also wanted the Hub to appear when he arrived at the tourist center? Hadn't he wanted his friends to remember who they were?

"I'm assuming the Uktoba did its best to make sure I had no control over it."

"Definitely. You were already at a disadvantage by not knowing that you were connected to the uinolils, but the Uktoba made it even more difficult by blocking a lot of things you probably wanted to happen when you first arrived in the illusion. It figured out a way to control the illusion even though the Uktoba wasn't the actual user, and to get the codes it created a place that would make you feel safe enough to reveal them. But," Jack stressed, raising a finger, as if it would somehow put more emphasis on the word, "it turned out that whatever illusion he had planned to create meshed with some of your inner desires and memories." He lowered his hand, and he looked oddly proud for a moment. "Your will was too strong for the Uktoba to be able to have complete control."

"It still had most of the control, though."

Jack nodded grimly. "Oh, yeah. It didn't even care if you got stuck in the illusion as a result, it just wanted you to say the codes."

"You said if I reveal the last code I'll get stuck there. Does that have something to do with the illusion becoming real for me?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. When a user believes the illusion is real, they can't be taken out of it. Not forcefully, not willfully, because the psychic link between the user's mind and the uinolils becomes permanent, and there's always something that solidifies that link. For you, it was the codes, and if you had said that last one then that's it. There was no way to get you back from that."

No wonder Jack had been so desperate to prevent him from saying the last code. He would have been trapped in a made-up alternate reality, unaware that he was living in an illusion of his own making. _Blissfully _unaware. Ianto couldn't help but think that he wouldn't have minded so much living an illusion if Jack hadn't told him the truth about the situation.

Ignoring the slight pang in his chest, he asked, "Why didn't you just destroy the device when you found me?"

"Doing so might have caused brain damage. The connection between your mind and the uinolils wasn't permanent, but it was strong enough to make us worry about forcing you out of it and causing damage to your mind."

"And what would have happened if you tried to get me out of the illusion if the link had become permanent?"

"Death."

Ianto took a deep breath. "Wow."

"I know. We went without sleep for about twenty-four hours trying to figure out the best way to save you without causing damage."

Twenty-four hours? Ianto frowned. Hadn't Jack mentioned something about going without food or water for over a week? "How long had I been missing?"

"Nine days or so."

"Nine days?" Ianto's eyes were wide with shock. "But almost a month passed by in my illusion."

"Illusions tend to run on a faster time stream. Days in your virtual reality can be mere hours in reality, and anyone who uses the uinolils can live out a lifetime in their illusions, but if you die in the illusion, you die in reality. It cuts off brain activity and without brain activity . . ." Jack let the sentence trail off. There really was no need for him to finish the sentence.

It would have been nice to know all this. He made a mental note to add the information in the uinolils file.

Ianto shifted when the position he was in began to get a little uncomfortable. Jack quickly stood up and removed the pillow from his back, letting him lie down. Ianto turned on his side to give his back some respite from lying on the mattress, which wasn't as comfortable as his bed at home, or even the bed he had had at Whittier.

"Nine days," he murmured. "So it's been about ten since we went to the park?"

"Just about. That's another thing I got out of our revengeful alien. It released the Chyla in the park to lure us there, and when we did, it dragged you underground and took you to its lair."

"Lair," Ianto mused quietly. "Sounds sinister."

Jack smiled slightly. "A bit." He lost the smile. "I knew something was wrong when the comm-unit got cut off, and then Tosh said she heard you shout. We didn't know where you were, and after we grabbed the Chyla we looked everywhere. The Uktoba crushed your phone so we couldn't even trace you that way, and by the time we realized where you were and went after you your health was shot to hell. Probably would've died if we hadn't found you when we did." He made a face. "As it was, we barely cut it close in terms of your other reality."

"What do you—" He paused, realizing what Jack was referring to. He squirmed, uncomfortable as he was reminded of how close he had come to saying the last code.

"I think something inside of you knew that Torchwood was real and that's why you lasted as long as you did, but I hadn't realized you were so far gone. I got a bit desperate." He smiled again. "Not that I need to tell you that."

"No, you don't," Ianto murmured, remembering how Jack had pushed him to the ground _and_ punched him across the jaw.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "Since the link wasn't permanent it was still possible for you to come out of the illusion, but at that point the only way to get you out was to make you see that it wasn't real, to make you want to come back to the real world. I didn't expect it to be so damn difficult to get you to see that it wasn't real, though." Jack lowered his hand and smiled at Ianto. "Once you accepted that the reality was false and stopped wanting to stay there, it was easy for you to come back on your own."

Ianto snuggled his face into the pillow, feeling a bit sleepy. He wasn't ready to go back to sleep, though, not until he had all his questions answered. "So answer me this. If the device was connected to my mind, how did you enter the illusion?"

"Thank Tosh. She found a way to insert me into it." Jack grimaced. "It wasn't easy, though. There were some complications, initially."

"Did those complications involve you popping into my illusion as a frozen ghost?"

"Yep. Tosh converted the energy emitting from the device into computer codes. She tried to manipulate the codes to get you to see that the illusion wasn't real, but the codes kept changing because the illusion kept evolving and there wasn't time for her to figure out how to use the changing codes to her advantage. That's when we decided to connect me to the device and try to get me into your illusion so I can tell you what's happening. The Uktoba wouldn't tell me how it managed to connect itself to the device, though, and that's when I got a little too aggressive" Again, that flash of regret, but Ianto wasn't sure if he regretted killing the alien, period, or killing the alien before Ianto could be disconnected from the uinolils.

Jack ran a hand down his face, expression weary. Ianto wondered if Jack had been sitting by his side while he slept.

"Ianto?"

His name had him fluttering his eyes open. He hadn't realized he had closed them. "What?"

"I could finish explaining later—"

"No."

Jack was hesitant. "Are you sure? You look about ready to knock out."

"Not yet, not until I know what happened. Everything. Please?"

"Stubborn," Jack muttered beneath his breath, and Ianto glared. "So since the Uktoba was dead—and Owen threw one hell of a bitch-fit because of it—we spent some time trying to find a way to connect me to the device. When we did, all I had to do was put a couple of electrodes to my temples that were attached to the device, and lower my mental barriers to make the connection possible. Easy enough." He shook his head, a sarcastic snort escaping. "But instead of being able to move freely in your illusion, I was stuck, frozen. I could hear, I could see, but I couldn't do anything else. That's when Tosh realized that two things were working together to keep the illusion going: your willpower and the Uktoba's willpower."

"But the Uktoba was dead. How was its willpower still a part in the illusion?"

"It left its fingerprint behind, I guess is the best way to say it. The illusion was evolving and was taking its cue from the basic desires and memories it got when you and the Uktoba first connected to it." Jack scowled slightly. "And it was the Uktoba's will that kept making me appear all wrong."

Jack lifted a hand and poured some water into glass. Ianto was about to mention that he didn't need to drink any when Jack drank it himself, making Ianto realize that all the talking must have made him thirsty. Ianto almost felt bad about it. Almost being the operative word, of course.

Ianto scowled when he caught himself watching the way Jack's throat moved as he drank. He averted his gaze, annoyed when his belly warmed. There he was, lying on a bed barely able to move, and he was getting turned on. Bloody typical.

He kept his gaze averted until he heard the faint thud of the glass hitting the table. He looked at Jack expectantly.

Jack understood the quiet expectation. "The Uktoba's fingerprint or whatever kept interfering with my presence. Since I wasn't part of the original 'codes' that initially created the illusion, as Tosh had explained it me, I was like an unwanted virus or a program the codes didn't recognize, preventing me from 'installing' properly." Jack rested his crossed arms on the bed by Ianto's hip. "Tosh managed to find a way to get me to install properly—don't ask me how, her explanation went way over my head—and I was finally able to move." Jack smiled gently. "You know the rest."

Ianto fought a yawn, feeling his jaw tremble with the effort it took. If he wasn't so tired, his mind would have probably been going a mile a minute, trying to process all he learned and experienced.

Ianto drew the blanket higher, feeling a bit chilly in the recovery room. "So Owen is still a bastard?"

"Yep. Kept bitching about your weight when we carried you out of the Uktoba's lair."

"Of course." His eyes closed, but he fought them open. "And Tosh isn't crazy?"

"No. She's still the same sweet Tosh."

Ianto hesitated, but asked, "Gwen?"

As expected, Jack's expression flickered at the mention of her name. It was the big Welsh elephant in the room, but Ianto wanted to make sure all was right in his world. "Still on her honeymoon, but I think she'll be back soon. She called to see what was going on and we told her. She was worried."

Ianto couldn't hate her. He had hated the Gwen in his illusion, but he couldn't hate the Gwen he knew, certainly not for the issues that had sprouted between him and Jack.

"I fought it when I first woke up in the illusion," Ianto declared softly, needing to let Jack know that he hadn't given in so easily. "I felt that something was completely wrong, but everyone kept saying I was crazy, and then I kept finding proof that they were right. I escaped to look for the Hub, but it wasn't there. Yates and Glyn were telling me that the illusion was my reality, Tosh was a patient with a bold personality, Owen was a doctor with a nice personality, Gwen wanted nothing to do with me, and you—" Ianto cut himself off, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"I was your husband," Jack finished.

"Right." Ianto struggled not to let heat fill his cheeks.

"Tosh, Owen, and I were created because of you. That was your Torchwood life bleeding through, right down to Gwen's absence from the illusion, apparently. The other two—what did you call them? Yates and Glenn?"

"Glyn."

"Yeah, them. The Uktoba created them, along with the setting and the people. They were easier to get rid of. Tosh and Owen were a little harder to remove from the illusion."

"I thought you said you couldn't get rid of the illusion."

"We couldn't. Not all at once, at least, and definitely not while you thought the illusion was real, but since the connection between you and the device wasn't completely cemented yet we were able to still tweak things, if we knew what needed to be tweaked." Ianto was confused about that, something Jack picked up on. "Too much tweaking, or tweaking the wrong thing, could have damaged your mind. So every time I entered your illusion, it gave me an idea of what was happening and we managed to figure out what aspects came from the Uktoba and what aspects came from you."

"So you heard me?" Ianto asked sleepily. "When I asked for a sign."

"Yeah." Jack's voice was soft. "I tried so damn hard to move for you, and the way you looked when I didn't—" Jack made a disappointed sound. Ianto chose not to comment. "Anyways, once I was actually in there, the plan was to remove certain things that would convince you I was telling the truth. Once we got around the Uktoba's fingerprint, Tosh first removed the things the Uktoba created since they were the easiest to remove, considering the Uktoba was dead and there was no brain to worry about from that angle, but delicacy was required for anything that was created because of you."

"Like you, Tosh, and Owen?"

"Exactly."

And instead of their personalities being the same, the Uktoba's willpower changed them. It was a brilliant plan, and it had worked beautifully. "That's a lot of effort," he said quietly, "just to save me."

Jack cocked his head. "You were going to die if you stayed in that illusion. We weren't about to let that happen."

"Oh." Ianto failed to find anything else to say to that. He couldn't remember a time when the team put so much time and effort to save him. Not that he ever thought that they would let him rot and die—although there were a couple of times after the Lisa incident when he had thought that they'd turn their backs on him if he ever needed their help—but he was still very much grateful for their efforts.

"But according to Tosh," Jack continued slowly, "my twin was the biggest complication of all. It was all you."

Ianto blinked. "Me?" Jack nodded. Ianto hadn't expected that. "So his personality was because of me?"

"Everything, including the personality, stemmed from your desires and memories. He also had the greatest influence on you, and was the main component that drew you further into that reality. The others helped, of course, but it was him who was really tying you down." Jack smiled kindly. "I should be flattered."

"Don't be." Embarrassed that his desires had been on display for Jack to see, Ianto words were frosty and sharp. Any hint of levity vanished. "That man doesn't and will never exist." His chest tightened at his own words.

It hurt, and it shouldn't. Ianto had loved him, but logically speaking, Professor Jack Harkness had existed only because some stupid alien attacked him and connected him to alien tech, and any love Ianto felt for the professor had been because of the love he felt for the real thing. Professor Harkness wasn't real, and the most humiliating thing of all was that Ianto hadn't realized he even wanted that kind of man to exist, and now everyone knew it.

There was silence for several seconds before Jack grabbed Ianto's hand. "Ianto, about what happened that night in my bunker, when I said—"

"I don't want to talk about it." He _really_ didn't want to talk about it. It was another elephant in the room, and it was surprising how much room there was for two elephants, but he was willing to ignore both. He carefully withdrew his hand from Jack's and turned around until he was giving Jack his back. He closed his eyes. "I'm too tired."

When Jack said, "Okay," he could hear the disappointment in his voice. Funnily enough, Ianto was a little glad about that. It matched the disappointment in Ianto's heart.

* * *

><p>When Ianto was able, he wrote a report. All incidents that occurred required a report to be filed and put away, and while Ianto didn't what to reveal everything he saw, heard, and felt in the illusion, he forced himself to write the words down. It might come in handy later for future Torchwood operatives.<p>

It took a few days before Ianto was able to get out of bed, but Owen was quick to tell him that he was only able to do light duties. Ianto had protested, until the simple action of working on a computer tired him out quickly. While Ianto wanted to do more, he followed Owen's regime only because it would speed up his recovery. Didn't mean he had to like it, especially when Ianto wasn't able to go out to help the others whenever the rift alarm went off. Ianto ended up spending a lot of time at home, preferring the comfort of his own bed and couch over the recovery room and the Hub's lumpy furniture.

As soon as Ianto was able to go to the Archives without breaking into a sweat, he completed the file on the uinolils, making sure to put down all the information Jack had given him so any future Torchwood operatives would have all the information about the device. Ianto couldn't be sure if having all the information would have helped him, but there was always a what-if scenario that it might have.

Gwen returned from her honeymoon the day after Ianto was able to leave the recovery room, and Ianto was the first she hugged, expressing her worry. Ianto reassured her that he was fine, just a bit weak, and Gwen practically coddled him all day. It was a bit stifling, but he endured it, smiling when Gwen gave him a black beret that she had bought just for him.

Although everything seemed to get back to normal, the relationship between him and Jack didn't resume. It was like a chasm had appeared between them. Jack attempted to talk to him, but Ianto found reasons or excuses to escape. He could see the frustration in Jack's eyes, but Ianto didn't want to talk to him just yet, not when he still felt hurt by what Jack had said during their fight and not while he still had Professor Harkness in his mind.

Tosh noticed, of course, which was why Ianto ended up being cornered in the Archives at one point.

"Tosh," he groaned as soon as he saw her, already seeing the question in her eyes. He took some files out of a cabinet. "Please don't ask."

"I'm just worried," she said softly as she approached him.

"I get that, and I'm grateful, but I'm fine."

"Are you?" She leaned against the file cabinet. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but you and Jack—"

"Are okay. I'm just dealing with some things, and Jack has never grasped the notion of giving someone space." Total understatement, but at least it was the truth. Sort of.

Tosh obviously didn't buy it, but she didn't push, and Ianto felt a twinge. The Tosh in his illusion would have pushed. She would have demanded to know what was going on, practically twist his arm until he gave her answers.

But this Tosh wasn't like that. She was still mousy, still quiet and respectful of others' feelings. So he wasn't surprised when Tosh took one moment to study him before nodding. "All right. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here. You know that, don't you?"

Ianto smiled, the curve genuine. Tosh may not be loud or abrasive, but she was kind and caring. He closed the cabinet drawer. "Yes, I know. Thanks."

Tosh pushed away from the file cabinet and started walking away, but she paused and turned towards him. "Ianto, just so you know, Jack killed the Uktoba not because it wouldn't answer his questions, but because it laughed in his face and said you dying wouldn't be too much of a loss since you weren't worth saving." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, looking hesitant but determined. "Jack was furious, but he was also scared and desperate to save you. He said, and I quote, 'I'll be damned before I lose him.'" With that said, she left.

Ianto stared at her retreating back, left with folders clutched in his hands and her words echoing in his head.

* * *

><p>When the rift finally died down, and Ianto felt more or less recovered, he decided to use the free time to take a trip to where Whittier had been located in his illusion. He wasn't surprised to find nothing but trees and grass. There was no evidence that anything had been built upon the land.<p>

Well, at least Ianto was assured that his knowledge of Cardiff was solid.

He walked for a while, taking in the fresh air, and paused in front of a tree. He studied it for a while, determining its height, its limbs, until he decided that it was good enough. At least this time he was wearing trainers and not slippers.

He took a breath and began to climb.

Ianto didn't climb too high, only reaching the lowest of the limbs. Once he settled on the thick limb, legs straddling it and back against the tree trunk, he momentarily closed his eyes to better enjoy the caress of the breeze against his skin. It was peaceful, with nothing but nature surrounding him.

Opening his eyes, Ianto leaned forward a little and managed to remove the cross-body bag he had brought with him. He opened it and took out a brand new sketchbook and a drawing pencil he had bought in an art shop. He settled back against the tree trunk, getting comfortable on the limb without losing his balance. It was a delicate business, but as soon as he found a position that was both comfortable and safe, he opened his sketchbook and began to draw.

He ended up drawing Jack—his husband Jack—from memory. He added the longer hair, the glasses, the clothes, and the wedding ring. Especially the wedding ring. In the end, the drawing wasn't as great as the ones in his illusion, but he didn't need it to be perfect. Drawing was a rediscovered hobby he was determined to keep no matter what level his skills were.

He traced his fingers over the page, missing his husband so much it was downright pathetic. He dreamed of him sometimes, of loving words whispered in his ear, of adorning touches on his skin. His heart ached, and no matter how many times he told himself that his husband had never existed, he still felt like he was grieving over a dead loved one, and he was finding it more difficult than he ever thought possible to get over his experience and move on.

Everything he had ever wanted in Jack had been there for him to enjoy, and a part of him hated the captain for taking that away from him.

He looked down when he heard a distinct cough. Jack was standing underneath him, looking up with a smile. "Hello."

Ianto's brow furrowed. "How did you find me?"

"GPS on your new phone."

"Brilliant," he said sarcastically. "Does this mean I can't go anywhere without you or the others finding me?"

"You were just kidnapped. We're a bit wary." Ianto restrained his hostility. Jack had a point. "Care to come down?" Ianto looked away, considering. Jack cleared his throat. "Or we could talk this way, whatever works."

He knew it. Jack may be wary about Ianto leaving without letting anyone know where he was going, but clearly Jack was using the rift's downtime and Ianto's full-recovery to his advantage.

Ianto attempted to put his materials away, but when he nearly fell off the limb, he reached out to grab onto the trunk. The shift sent all his drawing materials tumbling to the ground, and Ianto cursed. He grimaced when he saw Jack reaching for them, and as quickly as he dared, Ianto climbed down the tree.

When his feet touched the ground, Jack had already picked up all his items and was busy looking at his drawing.

"Good drawing," Jack commented. "I like the glasses on me. Makes me seem like a hot nerd."

Ianto swiped his sketchbook out of Jack's hands. "I didn't draw you." He closed the sketchbook and put it back in his bag.

"I know," Jack said softly, offering Ianto his drawing pencil.

Moodily, Ianto took it and put it in the bag as well. "What do you want?" Ianto zipped his bag closed and mildly glared at Jack.

Jack studied him, not answering the question right away. When he did answer, it wasn't what Ianto had been expecting to hear. "I've spent the last couple of weeks trying to figure you out."

"What?"

"I've been trying to reach you, but you always find an excuse or a reason to avoid me. It's like you don't want to be alone with me."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "If you're referring to sex—"

"No, of course not." Jack dug his hands into the pockets of his RAF coat. "You're so impersonal and distant with me, like I'm an acquaintance."

Fine, if Jack wanted to talk about it, Ianto was going to let him have it. He tilted his chin up. "How else would I treat an ex-lover?" He frowned. "No, not lover. I was just a fuck, right?"

Jack winced, hearing the sarcasm in Ianto's tone. "I probably deserve that."

"Probably?" Ianto arched a brow.

"Definitely. I deserve all the scorn and anger you feel."

"Well, thanks."

"I didn't mean it," Jack said. "When I called what we had a fling, I didn't mean it. And I didn't mean it when I said you were nothing more than a fuck. I'm sorry for even saying it."

"And, what, you think that makes it okay?' Ianto scoffed. "You can't take the words back."

"I know that." Jack's hand twitched, lifting a couple of inches, but Ianto took a step back. He didn't want to be touched. Jack dropped his hand. "Why do you think I've been trying to talk to you?"

"So you could clear the air, bat your eyelashes, and make a lewd joke about make-up sex. That's what you always do, and I always end up forgiving you and letting you sweep everything underneath the rug so we never have to talk about it again." Ianto narrowed his eyes slightly. "Sorry, that's not going to happen. Not this time. Not ever again."

"Then talk to me." Jack moved forward. Ianto didn't move back, but Jack seemed to sense that Ianto wanted distance. There was a respectable amount of it between them when Jack stilled. "Please."

Ianto tore his gaze away from Jack and looked around the area, thinking of what he should say. There were a lot of things that needed to be said, but he didn't know where to start. When he looked back at Jack, his mind provided him with an image of the Jack from his illusion, which made looking at the man standing in front of him almost painful.

"I'm finding it difficult to reconcile you and the Jack in my illusion. I know he wasn't real, but I miss him. He was . . ." Ianto closed his eyes, remembering the private conversations, the hand holding, the sweet kisses, the laughter. "He was so bloody wonderful." He opened his eyes. "I could've had such a good life with him, and I end up coming back to this, to you." He slipped his bag over his shoulder. "You have no idea how bad I want him back."

To give him credit, Jack didn't seem offended by Ianto words. Most people would feel a bit put out at hearing someone say they prefer an illusion over the real thing. Jack gently said, "You can't have him back, and I can't be that man for you."

"I know that," Ianto snapped. "No matter how hard you try, you can never be him. He was so much better than you."

Now Jack looked slightly hurt. "Not holding back, huh?" he said flippantly.

"Why should I? You never do. You never take a moment to think if the next thing you say or do is going to hurt me. You just say whatever you want, do whatever you want, and expect me not to be hurt by any of it."

Jack swallowed. "I'm sorry, Ianto. Not just for calling our relationship a fling, but for anything else I've said or done to have hurt you. Let me make it up to you. Give me a chance."

"I gave you a chance when you asked me out, and you fucking blew it." Ianto laughed sardonically. "But you want to know the funny thing about that? I already had a hunch that you would hurt me. It's not like I'm the one you really want."

Jack looked confused for a moment. "If this is about Gwen—"

"Gwen, the Doctor, Rose—all these people you love, and I'm competing with all of them. You speak of the Doctor like he's some kind of god, and the way your eyes light up when you mention Rose . . ." He snorted. "And Gwen. Jesus, the way you stare at her, and defend her, and touch her, and talk about her." His hands clenched as they hanged at his sides. "You don't think I don't know that you told her that you came back for her? That the only way you survived being away, that the only thing that kept you going, was the very idea of returning to her? Not the team, her."

"I never said—"

Ianto cut him off. "Don't insult me by lying, Jack. I saw it on the CCTV and heard it over the audio feed. I _saw_ you. And I saw the way you looked when you realized she was engaged. It was like your whole world crumbled."

Jack tightened his lips and he closed the distance between them. He grabbed Ianto's shoulders. "But I asked you out, Ianto. _You_."

"Who else were you going to ask?" He attempted to dislodge Jack's hands, but they only tightened in response.

"I could've asked no one." Jack said it like the words should mean something to Ianto.

"For all I know, you used me as a way to get over Gwen. Maybe I'm a rebound." Astonishment flashed in Jack's eyes. "Makes sense, doesn't it? Why else would you ask me out hours after practically declaring your feelings for Gwen?"

"You were never a rebound. I would never do that."

"Yes, you would. You've done it before, haven't you? Used men and women left and right for your own selfish desires?" Ianto's words were justified when Jack looked away, guilt written all over his face. Ianto knew Jack like the back of his hand, which made it all that more confusing as to why he had chosen to get involved with him in the first place. Ianto's anger bubbled very close to the surface. "Jesus, why in the hell did you even ask me out?" When Jack didn't answer, Ianto growled softly. "Tell me, Jack. What else can you say that can hurt me?"

"Apparently a lot." Jack ran a hand down his face. "I'm attracted to you, Ianto. I've always been attracted to you. Isn't that enough of a reason for me to ask you out?"

"That's enough to fuck me, not date me. And if you really wanted to date me, you would've put more effort instead of the three dates you took me out on. So maybe it was guilt for the way you had treated me before you left, or maybe it was because you wanted to fuck me again but knew the only way to get me into bed with you again was to take me out and pretend to actually want more than just sex."

At his last suggestion, Jack's expression became appalled and flabbergasted all at once. "No," he firmly said. "I did not ask you out so I can get you into bed. No matter what I did in the past, I certainly don't do that now and never with you."

That didn't exactly make him feel better since Jack still hadn't answered the question. Maybe Jack didn't even know himself why he asked Ianto out.

Ianto looked away. "In my illusion, my husband had known why he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he held me and kissed me. He knew me in ways that even Lisa hadn't been able to." The chirp of a bird caught his attention and he looked up, seeking out the bird to avoid looking at Jack's face. "He gave me a taste of something I hadn't realized I was missing."

"Normalcy?" Surprised, Ianto looked at Jack, finding blue eyes watching him steadily. "That's what you said when I was trying to convince you that you were trapped in an illusion. You said that you had a chance at a normal life."

Had he said that? His mind had been all over the place during that time, so he couldn't quite remember everything that had come out of his mouth in that moment of desperation. "I guess a part of me does miss that," he mused, mostly to himself. "Who wouldn't? I stay at Torchwood willingly, but there's always going to be a piece of me wishing that I had a life without aliens."

Jack toed the ground with the toe of his boot. "I can give you that."

"Give me what?"

"If it's a normal life you want, I can give you that. I can give you retcon."

Ianto gaped, the only thing confirming that he had heard right being the serious expression on Jack's face. "You were right," he managed to say. "There _is_ a lot more you can say that can hurt me."

Furious, Ianto shoved pass Jack and stomped away. Was Jack truly that heartless? Ianto was having a hard time accepting the falsity of his husband's existence precisely because the man he wanted would never exist, and Jack had proven that point fantastically. They were had been lovers, damn it. It shouldn't be so easy for Jack to offer him retcon like it was candy.

He didn't get too far, his arm grabbed by firm fingers wrapping around his bicep. "Don't do that," Jack growled.

Ianto tried to yank his arm out of Jack's hold, but Jack held firm. "Let go of me, you unfeeling bastard."

"Don't walk away from me. Tell me what I said to piss you off because I just offered you a chance to have what you want."

"Do you seriously think that's what I want? A normal life with a random stranger who I'll meet on the street? Didn't you pay any attention to my illusion?" Ianto got into Jack's face. "I don't have any inner desire to be domestic with some stranger, Jack."

"Then explain it to me, because clearly I'm too thickheaded to figure it out on my own," Jack snapped.

"Hell has frozen over, Captain Harkness has finally admitted to having a flaw." He yanked harder on his arm, but when Jack continued to hold on, Ianto used a fist to punch Jack's shoulder. The fingers loosened and Ianto pulled his arm completely from Jack's grip. He glared. "If that's what I wanted then don't you think that my husband would have been anyone but you?" Ianto stepped back and paced a little. "I created a husband who knew everything about me. He treated me like someone who mattered, made me feel like I was his equal instead of a convenient fuck."

"Ianto—"

Ianto spun around to face him. "I'm not finished. You wanted me to talk and that's what I'm doing so you better damn well stand there and hear me until I'm done."

Ianto saw the struggle on Jack's face, the urge to say something because Jack wasn't the kind of guy to take anything silently. But he nodded his understanding, even though his jaw was clenched tight.

Ianto placed his hands on his hips. "The last time I felt anything even close to that was when I was with Lisa and how she made me feel like the luckiest bloke in the world. That's what my fake husband made me feel and no matter how crazy or neurotic or out of control I was in the illusion, he was there willing to be hated just to make sure I was okay. He put me first." Ianto felt his body tremble with all the emotions he was feeling, and it took effort to force his muscles to stop quivering. "But more than that, I created a _Jack_ who knew me."

He stopped and waited for Jack's reaction, hoping that he was actually listening to what Ianto was saying.

Jack's confusion shifted to shocked understanding, and Ianto knew Jack finally got it.

Ianto abruptly deflated, shoulders slumping and his anger vanishing. "It's a difficult thing to bear being treated like I'm your flavor of the century when I'm emotionally involved." His voice was weary, and Ianto was too tired to hide behind an emotionless mask. "Giving me retcon isn't going to give me what I want, because I won't have the person I . . ." Ianto bit his lip. He didn't need to say the words, he was pretty sure Jack got the picture.

He inhaled sharply. "I've accepted a lot of your ways and beliefs, and compromised a lot of my own in the process, but you don't seem willing to do the same. At first I thought it was worth it and that's why I didn't say anything, but it's not worth it. You don't seem willing to put my happiness first, and all I've ever done is put yours first. I've compromised with your flirting, your secrets, and your love for an open relationship." Ianto shook his head. "Did you know that you slept with Gwen in my illusion?"

Jack's eyes flashed with guilt. "Yes," he admitted. "I read it in your report."

Ianto wasn't surprised. Jack usually didn't read the reports, but Ianto's experience in the illusion had been a lone journey. Of course Jack would want to know what had happened. "Even in my illusion, you weren't faithful. Clearly my memories were bleeding through, but you would think my desires would've been strong enough to create a faithful husband. Says a lot about my insecurities, doesn't it? To make up a husband who cheated on me."

"But you forgave him." Jack sounded put out and completely lost. "You make him sound like a saint even though he cheated on you. I may have been oblivious to a few things, but I never slept with another while I was with you."

Ianto could hear the accusation in Jacks last words, as if Ianto was committing a crime by forgiving a man who wasn't real and denying a man who _was_ real the same courtesy. "He made a mistake, and while his actions were horrible at least there was a more tangible reason for him fucking Gwen instead of just fucking her for the sake of lust the way you want to. He saw how much it hurt me and tried to make things right. He didn't make dirty jokes about it, or belittled me or my pain. He didn't try to justify it or argue with me, and he didn't lash out at me by calling me a fuck." He ran a hand through his hair. "He knew me enough to respect my feelings, to respect my desire for space, to put me first instead of focusing on himself the way you do."

Jack's lips tightened. "He was from your own mind, Ianto. Of course he would know you."

"And doesn't that tell you anything about what I want from you? You don't know me, Jack. I don't think you ever had, because if you did you would've tried to understand why I was angry at you for jerking off to Gwen. But you didn't try, Jack. You never do."

There was silence, but the silence wasn't quiet. It was filled with tension, with echoes of their words. It was a pregnant silence that was not at all comfortable.

Jack didn't seem to know what to say to his words, and Ianto wasn't surprised. It was probably too much to handle for a man who was emotionally stunted.

Ianto inhaled deeply, too tried to continue with this discussion. Too tired to deal with Jack.

"I think it's time we officially end it."

Jack's eyes widened. "No, Ianto—"

"It's not just the things you said that night, Jack. It's how you've treated me since you came back from your trip with the Doctor. I'm not a lover, or a boyfriend, or anything. I'm just the bloke you fuck and occasionally take out. That isn't a relationship. That's not even an affair. It's a waste of my time." Ianto attempted to walk away, but Jack practically lunged forward to grab his shoulders and keep him in his place. "Jack—"

"I can't turn myself into your illusionary husband, Ianto. I can try to mold myself to be like him, but I know how I am. I'll eventually run away so I wouldn't have to deal with the restrictions anymore, probably fuck someone else or keep you at arm's length, and I'll break your heart. I'll hurt you more than I've done in the past if I force myself to become that man for you."

Jack tightened his hold on Ianto's shoulders. "But you're right. I've been a total bastard in how I've treated you, but it's not because I'm doing it on purpose. Sometimes I forget that the world doesn't revolve around me. I forget that my personality is a little too much. And in my attempts to not change who I am, I didn't notice that you were compromising a lot so I wouldn't have to."

"That's the problem, Jack. You don't notice anything about me, not until it's convenient for you to do so."

"And that's my mistake." Jack stepped close, sliding one hand to the back of Ianto's neck, the other sliding down his arm until he could tangle their fingers together. "But believe me when I say it'll be different this time. I'll make some compromises, and I'll pay more attention." Desperation began to fill his eyes. "Just let me prove it. I may not deserve it, but give me another chance and I swear I'll do it right this time."

"Why? What's the point?"

"Because—" Jack cut himself off and he suddenly looked uncomfortable. He looked down, up, away, obviously struggling to figure out his next words. Ianto huffed and tried to back away but Jack made him stay put by firming his grip on Ianto's nape. "I—" Jack visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. "There's more than just—" He suddenly cursed. "Jesus, I'm not good at this emotional shit." He paused. "You're important. What I feel for you—" His gaze flicked over Ianto's face. "I'm emotionally involved, too."

Ianto lifted his free hand to cup Jack's cheek. Jack's eyes glowed with hope. "I already know how it's going to go," he said softly. "You're going to be attentive at first, pay more attention to me than you've ever have before, trying so hard not to mess up, but then something will distract you—"

"No," Jack insisted.

Ianto smoothly continued. "—or someone will pull you away, and then you'll stop trying. We'll end up right back where we started."

"Ianto, please." The hope in Jack's eyes was rapidly disappearing. "It'll be different this time."

"I know how are you are, Jack. I know how fickle you can be." This time, Ianto managed to disentangle himself from the hold Jack had on him. "That's the sad thing about all of this. I know how you are, and I still allowed myself to get involved."

"Just give me another chance, Ianto. I won't fuck up this time."

Groveling. Jack was actually groveling. Ianto should feel pleased at the sight, revel that the heartthrob was begging him for another chance when Jack could have so many at the snap of a finger, but Ianto wasn't reveling or gloating. He just wanted the conversation over. "Yes, you will. You always will."

With every ounce of courage he had in him, he shook his head, turned, and began to walk away. He forced himself to move one foot in front of the other, refusing to look back. He was afraid of giving into Jack's pleas, of running back to him.

God, he loved him. He hadn't expected to fall in love again after Lisa, let alone fall in love with Jack, but somehow Jack managed to wiggle his way into Ianto's heart and stay there. But loving him just wasn't enough anymore. Ianto needed more—no, he _deserved_ more, and the illusion had opened his eyes to that fact.

He knew it would be hard to move on. Despite their break-up, Ianto would never truly be free of him. Jack would always own a piece of his heart, but that was okay. Ianto would do his best to get over it. He had survived so many things; heartbreak wasn't going to destroy him. He wouldn't let it.

"Tiger lilies," Jack called out. Ianto slowed down, startled. "You like tiger lilies."

Ianto came to a complete stop. He barely turned his head, still unwilling to completely look at Jack. "What?"

"You have them in your flat, but you always claim that they're gifts from a neighbor. I'd believe that, if you didn't give tiger lilies to the girls or bring them to the Hub whenever you decided to spruce the place up a little."

Ianto heard the faint crackling of dry leaves behind him. Jack's voice got closer as he continued to speak.

"You prefer classic movies, usually black and white films, but on occasion you enjoy a cheesy sci-fi flick that's mindless entertainment and serves no other purpose than to make you laugh. I didn't understand why until you explained that since you practically live in a sci-fi world, the violence and death you see every day can be temporarily forgotten whenever you watch sci-fi movies with stupid plots and stupider dialogue."

Ianto remembered giving that explanation when Jack had come over to his flat unexpectedly one night, catching Ianto in the middle of a movie that had been depicting green aliens fighting with humans.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, feeling Jack's body heat behind him. "You pretend to eat vegetables, but you do your best to avoid them whenever you could. You shove them aside on your plate, you put them in napkins, or you just offer them to someone else. Carrots, you're okay with, but you really seem to have an issue with broccoli and cabbage."

Vegetables just weren't his thing, and when Ianto had first started working at Torchwood Three Jack had said he needed more vegetables in his diet because vegetables had iron that was good for the body.

Jack chuckled. "And you love mystery novels, mostly because you enjoy trying to guess who the killer is before he is revealed. Last I checked, you managed to guess the killer of twenty out of the forty mystery novels you have."

"Twenty-one," Ianto said hoarsely. He pressed a hand against his stomach, feeling something flutter inside. It felt like hope, but he didn't want to feel that.

Jack walked around until he was standing in front of him. His expression was solemn. "You're a dog person, and the only thing that's stopping you from adopting one is that you're not home often enough to take care of it properly, but if you did adopt a dog you'd get an old one since no one else seems willing to take home the older dogs."

Ianto had let that slip while investigating alien sightings in an animal shelter. There had been an abundance of older dogs sleeping in their cages, and Ianto had been tempted to take one home with him.

"You're ticklish underneath your right thigh, so whenever we have sex I make sure to caress you there just to hear you laugh." Jack's gaze was achingly soft. "You have a nice laugh and you don't do it often enough, so I like to hear it whenever I could."

Ianto shuffled his feet, remembering the countless times Jack purposely ran his fingers across the skin underneath his thigh. Ianto had initially told him that he was ticklish there and asked not to be touched there, but Jack had continued to do so. Ianto had simply assumed that Jack hadn't remembered that he was ticklish in that spot.

Jack took in Ianto's appearance, fingers tugging on his sleeves, the front of his shirt, grazing his belt and the top portion of his jeans. "You like wearing suits, but that's mostly because dressing casually like the way you're dressed now makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. You hate feeling that way."

Ianto looked away. That was more insightful than he had thought Jack capable of. He was impressed—and scared. His heart was pounding madly and whether he liked or not, hope blossomed and warmed his insides until he could ignore it no longer.

"You're a James Bond fan, and you not only have every single film on DVD in your home, you also have a collection of James Bond action figures hiding underneath your bed."

Ianto's eyes widened. "How did you—"

"I snooped around one day while you were sleeping." He paused. "Which I guess isn't helping my case right now, but the point is I know about it, right?"

Ianto sighed. "Jack—"

Jack placed his hand over the hand Ianto still rested on his stomach. "There's a thick scar just above your belly button from your encounter with a Cyberman at Torchwood London. You think it's ugly, but I consider it a badge of courage and strength, because anyone who comes out of that fiery hell with only a thick scar must have those two qualities." He moved his hand around Ianto's body until he was touching Ianto's lower back. "There's a mole right here that wasn't there last year, and I kiss it every time I see it because its proof that you managed to stay alive long enough to have one here." He slid his hand from his lower back to his right hip. "You have a faint scar right here. You got it after falling off your bike when you were eleven." Jack smiled with amusement. "You were embarrassed because you were trying to show off to a girl who lived in your neighborhood."

"She laughed at me," Ianto whispered. He remembered falling off that bike, and how eager he had been to show off to his pretty redhead neighbor, only to look like a fool when he fell off and painfully landed on gravel. What he couldn't remember was telling Jack that particular story, which only made it all that more touching that Jack remembered.

"Yes, she did laugh at you, but she kissed you on the cheek to make you feel better." Jack paused, hesitant as he gazed at Ianto. "Every time we sleep together, you curl in my arms because it's probably one of the few times you're able to block out every bad thing that's ever happened to you and it makes you feel safe. You feel protected, and you never ask for it. You don't think you have the right to ask or you're afraid that it'll make you look weak."

Ianto had to look away from the intensity in Jack's gaze, feeling beyond mortified that Jack knew that. How many times had he buried himself against Jack's chest, hiding a smile when Jack's arms wrapped around him, simply because he could pretend for a little that the monsters he faced were nothing more than myth and legend? Too many times to count, but he did it anyway, even as he joked with Jack about grown men cuddling together so Jack wouldn't know why he liked to be curled up against his lover

Jack grabbed his chin and gently moved his head until they could face each other again. "I wrap my arms around you because I like making you feel safe, and that's when I can pretend that I'm capable of protecting you, and that nothing will take you away from me."

"Jack," Ianto breathed.

"I know you, Ianto. More than you realized, more than _I _realized. I know you."

Jesus, Ianto's heart was beating so fast he was surprised it hadn't burst right out of his chest. It was astounding how Jack managed to remember all those things, tidbits that were shared only among lovers who felt more than lust.

"I get distracted by a lot of things and a lot of people," Jack murmured, taking one step forward so their chests could touch, "but that has more to do with how I was raised. It's not because you're not enough for me." He grabbed Ianto's hands, his skin warm and the limbs shaking. Or were Ianto's hands shaking? He couldn't tell, and it wasn't as important as the determined way Jack looked at him. "I was taught that love isn't restricted to just one person at a time, and it's true in a lot of ways. That's the beauty of humans, the capacity to love so many all at once. So yeah, I'm not going to stand here and say that my heart is limited to just one person. That would be a lie and you'd probably see right through it."

Ianto opened his mouth to speak, but a hand covered it. "Let me finish," Jack pleaded. "I'm almost done." Ianto slowly nodded, and Jack dropped his hand. He took a breath. "I may love multiple people at the same time, but sometimes there's one person who manages to monopolize most of it, and when that happens . . ." Jack swallowed, and he looked nervous. "When that happens, he makes me care so damn much that I have nightmares of losing him and I start getting scared of the day when I get left behind. He makes me wish that happily-ever-afters were real. He makes me want to be faithful no matter how many temptations are thrown in my path. He makes me feel safe enough to lower my defenses and let him in to see pass the masks I wear."

Jack's palms framed Ianto's face. "And right now, he makes me want to fight to keep him in my life for however long I could have him, because he matters to me." He pressed their foreheads together so Ianto couldn't avoid his gaze. "You matter to me," he whispered harshly.

It had been easier to walk away earlier when he had thought that Jack was an ignorant, flirty bastard who had taken Ianto for granted. But now? God, now Jack had decided to open up and let Ianto know that he had been paying more attention than Ianto had initially given him credit for, letting him know in that indirect way of his that Ianto's love might me reciprocated.

His head was telling him to walk way. The smartest thing to do was to stick with his decision and breakup with Jack. It would be better for everyone. Ianto could continue working at Torchwood, have his own flings, and be free from any more emotional pain. Jack would eventually move on, find someone else, maybe even fight for Gwen.

But his heart was telling him not to let go. Jack was fighting for him _now_. Jack, who could have anyone, was trying to convince an average Welshman to give him the chance to prove that he could change things. Ianto could end up regretting it for the rest of his life for walking away.

Maybe it would all end in heartbreak for him . . . but maybe it wouldn't.

Ianto kissed him. He kept it slow, putting all his emotions into it. He had told the Jack in his illusion that he loved him, but he couldn't repeat the words to this Jack, and that was okay. This Jack wasn't ready, and might never be ready, to hear those words, but if Jack had paid as much attention to his words and his kisses the way he had paid attention to all the little things Ianto had told him over the past several months, then Jack would already know how much Ianto loved him.

When he pulled back, Jack was breathing heavily and his eyes were slightly dilated. Lowly, he said, "Please tell me that wasn't a goodbye kiss."

Ianto shook his head, although he wasn't going to give Jack a chance without one important warning. "You have one more shot at this, Jack. Just one. If you screw up—"

"I won't," Jack quickly interjected.

"If you screw up," Ianto repeated steadily, "I will end this. No more chances."

Jack nodded his head vigorously. "I know."

Ianto peered into Jack's eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. He nodded once. "Okay."

Jack cocked his head slightly. "Okay?"

Ianto began to smile. "Okay."

Jack blinked, and then he grinned, white teeth flashing and eyes sparkling. "Okay."


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

Ianto woke up to the sound of a door opening. He lifted his head and peered blearily at Jack, surprised to find him up, dressed, and with a brown paper bag in his hand.

"Breakfast in bed?" Ianto murmured, lowering his head back down onto the fluffy pillow he was using.

"Not really. I did buy bagels, but you can thank me by getting out of bed."

"Ah, so this is a bribe." Ianto watched as Jack sat down on the bed beside him, twisting his body so he could lift a bent knee onto the mattress.

"Insurance," Jack corrected as he opened the paper bag. "I just wanted to let you know what you can have once you get up." He took out a bagel filled with cream cheese and took a bite. Ianto's eyes narrowed when his lover proceeded to make exaggerated noises of delight. "So good," Jack moaned.

"Shall I leave you and the bagel alone?"

Jack chuckled and swallowed before leaning down to kiss Ianto's temple. "Come on, big boy. Get up."

"It's a vacation." Ianto closed his eyes, snuggling into his pillow. "We're meant to sleep in."

"Until noon?"

"We slept in until noon yesterday."

"That's because we were fucking all night."

Ianto hummed with pleasure at the memory. It had certainly been a night filled with hedonistic activities and experimentation after Jack had surprised him with a Karma Sutra edition that had been written sometime in the thirty-first century. Humans were certainly a lot more flexible during that time. Flexible and creative.

Last night, however, was a more cherished memory. Rather than indulge in sex, they had simply lain together in bed and talked about anything that popped into their heads. Of course, some things weren't discussed—most notably things in Jack's past that he wasn't and might not ever be ready to share with anyone—but it didn't matter. It had still been nice.

Jack finished his bagel with a smack, and then he promptly slapped Ianto's ass. Ianto yelped. "Up!" He stood up when Ianto swung an arm in an attempt to hit him in retaliation. Jack lifted the paper bag. "This will be waiting for you in the living room once you're out of bed."

"Bastard!" he called out as Jack headed towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah."

As soon as Jack left, Ianto rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, taking a couple of minutes to go over the changes in his relationship with Jack.

It had been almost two months since their near break-up, and Jack had kept his promise. There had been dates, Jack no longer brushed off Ianto's concerns or feelings, and there had been compromises. Ianto had been wary at first, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but his wariness had faded as he had begun to believe that Jack was not going to let his final chance go to waste.

There had been more talks afterwards, but one of the important ones hadn't been about the compromises Jack had needed to do. Rather, it had been about Ianto and his difficulty in letting the illusionary Jack go. Jack had said that he needed to stop making comparisons between the two men, citing it as unfair to expect Jack to surpass a perfect illusion only to disappoint him whenever he failed. Ianto hadn't even known he was doing such a thing and had denied it, until he had caught himself comparing the guarded way Jack looked at him to the open expressions his husband had tended to bestow upon him.

It had been more difficult than he thought possible to stop making comparisons, but if his relationship with the real Jack had any chance of working out, he had needed to let the fake Jack go. The Jack in his illusions may have been perfect, but the real Jack was putting in the effort to make a relationship between them work, as evidenced by their current week vacation in a rented cottage by the seaside.

When Jack had asked him about investigating an odd alien sighting near a beach, Ianto had no idea the supposed sighting had been a ruse masterminded by Jack and the team so he and Ianto could spend a week together alone, a sort of lovers' getaway. Three days into their mini-vacation, and Ianto was more relaxed than he had been in years, especially with how attentive Jack was being towards him. Hell, Ianto would even dare suggest that Jack was practically _doting_ on him. Ianto knew the attentiveness would die down somewhat once Jack was assured that Ianto wasn't going to break up with him, but that was okay. The attentiveness might become stifling if Jack didn't tone it down eventually, although Ianto hoped that Jack didn't stop completely.

Jack had also forced him to acknowledge that the near collapse of their relationship wasn't all on Jack's head. Ianto had never spoken up about what he was feeling, opting to keep everything he had felt concerning Jack's treatment of him bottled up inside. Most of the blame certainly fell at Jack's feet, but Ianto deserved a slice of that as well. Maybe if he had spoken up earlier, things wouldn't have taken an ugly turn in Jack's bunker that night.

Then again, things have certainly turned out all right despite of—or maybe because of—that particular ugly turn.

"Get out of bed," Jack shouted from the living room. Ianto rolled his eyes, but he dragged himself out of bed and headed towards to the adjacent bathroom to brush his teeth and take a quick shower.

Once he was finished, he walked out of the room with a white fluffy robe draped on his body, using a thick and warm towel to dry his wet hair. As he headed towards the living room, he was still in awe of the quaint and homey cottage that Jack had rented. It was furnished and stocked, and it came with its own private beach, something Jack hadn't mentioned until the yesterday when Ianto expressed concern over Jack's suggestion that they skinny-dip during broad daylight.

He found Jack sitting on the couch watching television. Ianto huffed at the sight. "You got me out of bed so we can watch television?" Ianto padded closer. "We could've watched television in the bedroom."

"I was waiting for you." He nodded at the coffee table where a cardboard box sat. "Got something for you."

Ianto cocked his head, studying the box. He frowned and then narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Did you bring me paperwork?" If Jack brought him work to do on their vacation, he was going to kill him.

"No, of course not." Jack shut off the television and leaned forward to open the flaps of the box. He reached in and grabbed a thick folder, waiting until Ianto sat down beside him before handing the folder to him.

Ianto accepted the folder and inhaled sharply when he saw what was stamped on the cover. _Property of Providence Park_. He opened it, and written on the first page was his mother's name. Nesta Jones.

"How did you get this?" he asked, glad his voice was steady.

"Torchwood credentials. It was the only way to get it after they refused to believe I was a relative."

Ianto had mentioned that he wanted to face the traumatic events he had endured in the past, but he hadn't expected Jack to grab his mother's file from the hospital. "Is this everything?" he asked, nodding at the box and folder.

"Yep. Doctor's reports, tapes, video diaries, and there are a few journals in the box as well." Jack slid closer and grabbed a knee, squeezing. "I know your mother's attempt on your life scarred you. Maybe this will help you finally deal with what happened."

"You have to admit," Ianto muttered, "being in the mental hospital had definitely forced me to confront my past and fears." He flipped over the front page and found a glossy photo of his mother staring back at him, and her appearance was similar to how Ianto had last seen her, with her hair unruly, her eyes wild, and a manic grin on her face. "She scared me to death, has been scaring me up to this point. It was easier to just close the door to that particular memory rather than deal with it. I just never realized how much of a hold she had on me until I was forced to live in a mental institution in my illusion."

"A few good things certainly did come out of the Uktoba's plan."

Ianto shared a quick smile with Jack. He had a point, and that point didn't just include their relationship.

The fears he harbored about his mental stability was because of his youthful experience with his mother's illness, yet being in the Whittier institution had shed a different kind of light on how he viewed his mother.

After her attempt on his life, she had ceased being his mother and Ianto had turned his back on her. His fears had turned her into a monster, and he had thought that by not opening that door to the past, he would be okay. He had been too scared to understand, and that fear had hanged over his head as he grew older.

However, he finally realized that his mother hadn't been trying to kill him under her own will. Her schizophrenia and lack of help had been the driving force behind the attack, and it hadn't been her fault. She had had no control over what her delusions had decided to show her and her reactions had been based on what her brain had been telling her to see. It was no different to how the residents of Whittier hospital had had no control over what their diseased brains were transmitting to their eyes and ears. They had been helpless and in need of assistance to keep their rationale intact.

His mother had loved him. She may have thought him the devil on that awful day, but prior to that? She had been a doting, loving mother who protected him and adored him. She had tucked him into bed, had sung him lullabies, and comforted him when he had had nightmares. Sick she may have been, but she hadn't been a monster.

Now the only fears that still kept Ianto up at nights was what would happen if he began to show symptoms of schizophrenia. He didn't want to hurt or traumatize anyone the way he had been, nor did he want to be looked upon with fear or disgust, an outcast to be shunned and locked away.

"Jack?" He lifted his head and stared at his lover. "I don't want to be looked at with fear. I don't want everyone to see me as someone who doesn't belong in society just because my mind is sick, and I don't want to be locked away and ignored for the rest of my life." He paused. "I don't want that kind of darkness inside of me, twisting everything that's good in my life to something so horrible that I drive everyone I love and care about away."

Looking very much lost, Jack asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm still within the age range of when people who have schizophrenia begin to show symptoms."

Jack's confusion cleared, and he sighed. "Perhaps I shouldn't have brought the box." Before Ianto could respond to that, Jack said, "There's no guarantee that you'll be diagnosed with schizophrenia, Ianto."

"I know, but I'm just saying that if I do start to show symptoms, I don't want people to look at me like I'm a monster. I don't want to be—" He struggled for a way to express what he felt. "I don't want to be misunderstood." Not like how he had misunderstood his mother.

Jack placed his hand over Ianto's, giving it a faint squeeze. "You know I'll take care of you, don't you?"

"How? By putting me in Flat Holm?" Ianto knew he would be a special case. He might spill Torchwood secrets, and while it was likely that the doctors would think that anything he revealed about aliens was due to the schizophrenia, there was the slim possibility that a Torchwood enemy would discover Ianto's connection to Torchwood and use him. The Uktoba wasn't the first alien to pursue all avenues in order to find Torchwood's weakest link. If Ianto was placed in a normal psychiatric hospital, he might be a liability. Flat Holm might be the better, safer, option.

"Ianto, just trust me when I say that I'd take care of you. Maybe I might end up putting you in Flat Holm for safety reasons, or maybe I'll put you in a mental hospital so you wouldn't have to endure being neighbors with rift victims who are lost causes, but it's just as likely that I'd find alien tech to help you, or maybe make contact with a few aliens who owe me favors and ask them for help or a cure. Hell, I might even call in the Doctor and get him to fix you, or to take us to the future where schizophrenia is curable."

"But—"

"Listen to me," Jack said firmly. "I will make sure that you are never misunderstood. No matter where I might put you, I will not cut all ties with you. I'll make sure that you don't hurt or traumatize anyone. You will be taken care of." He kissed Ianto gently. "And if you do get diagnosed one day, it doesn't mean you'll end up dying in a mental hospital like your mother did. Meds and therapy will help you, remember? Chances are you can live a normal life—or as normal a life a Torchwood operative can have—even with schizophrenia. I won't wait until you nearly hurt someone to get you the help you need."

"Promise?" If Ianto did start showing symptoms, he would need to rely on Jack and the others to help him.

"Promise," Jack assured him.

Ianto felt like a burden was lifted off his shoulders. Maybe the darkness would try to break free, but he felt better knowing that Jack would look out for him in a way his father hadn't looked out for his mother. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed." Jack reached up and caressed Ianto's cheek. "Want to look through the box?"

A part of Ianto was eager to go through it so he could get a better idea of the kind of life his mother had lived behind the walls of Providence Park, but he didn't want to do it just yet. His mother would forgive him for waiting a little longer in favor of having a relaxing morning with his lover.

He placed the folder on the coffee table and grabbed the paper bag housing his bagel that sat beside the box. "I'll go through it later." He settled on the couch and leaned against Jack, who wrapped an arm around him.

"You good?"

Ianto could hear the gentle waves of the ocean in the distance, and he wondered if Jack would be up for another skinny-dipping adventure later in the day. "Yeah." He tilted his head just enough so he could kiss Jack on the lips. "I'm good."_  
><em>

_The End_

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>**: **I want to thank everyone for reading and putting up with my delays. I hope this was a fun ride for you and that you enjoyed it from beginning to end_.  
><em>Once again, thanks for reading!


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